


Death's Sweet Kiss (And Her Sour Tongue)

by bellamoon



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Burying alive, Cannibalism, Explicit Language, Graphic Description, Horror, M/M, Overdosing, Poltergeists, Purgatory, Resurrection, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26832904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellamoon/pseuds/bellamoon
Summary: "Makes you uncomfortable? Yeah. You'll get used to it. All of us go a little crazy sometimes. We were suicidal maniacs when we were still humans, how could we not be crazy?""Hey, we aren't all that bad."They will never age. They will never feel pain a day after every time they hurt themselves. They are invincible, but not forever.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 20
Kudos: 31





	Death's Sweet Kiss (And Her Sour Tongue)

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!
> 
> This story contains unsettling content. There will brief mentions of vomiting and insects. For people who can't handle this, please turn away now. 
> 
> This is purely a work of fiction. All events and incidents in this book are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Donghyuck woke up gasping.

He jolted from his bed to catch his breath, unable to get the chance to let the ceiling greet him like most people did. It took him a moment to realize he was surrounded by six unfamiliar faces.

"Where am I?" He asked, terrified. "Who are you?"

"And yet another member to add to the family," said a brunette who had reading glasses perched up the bridge of his nose. "Is he the last of us?"

"We don't know about that, Injunnie. This place isn't only for us."

"Lord, honest to God I'm so going to make sure it only belongs to us."

"Ignore them," said a man with black hair to Donghyuck, intertwining his hand with his. He was, for lack of better words, the most attractive man Donghyuck had ever seen his life, only if this was even a part of his life. Donghyuck tried to pry his hand off him, to no avail. "Just tell us your name."

It was weird, Donghyuck’s brain supplied. He rose up with no memories of himself, of what happened, and who he was. He rose up with memories of nearly nothing, but he did recall his own name.

"Lee Donghyuck."

That name, that three-syllabled name, rolled off his tongue with such ease. Donghyuck knew how to write it. He knew how to speak it, and just as it couldn’t get any stranger, a boy gave a sweet, lopsided grin spoke in a chirpy voice.

"Ooh, Donghyuck, that's a cute name! Lots of nicknames to give. 'Hyuck, 'Hyuckie, 'Duck, 'Duckie, and the list goes on!"

"I don't understand," Donghyuck quivered. "I only remember my name?"

"Yes, yes, that's understandable,” said another one. “We believe you, so don't worry."

"And we assure you, it's normal! Happened to us when we first came here too."

"Guys, don't you think it's about time we introduce ourselves?"

They agreed right away, each taking turns to introduce themselves. They gave Donghyuck a generous matter of time to memorize their names, considering he was still bewildered about where he was which appeared to be a dim clinic with beds similar to the one he was sitting on. The walls were plain empty, and Donghyuck could’ve sworn he saw a spider disappear behind the shelf of bottled medicines. The window covered with a flimsy, translucent curtain danced at the wind’s rhythm, which at all didn’t help alter the mood in the room.

Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Jaemin, Chenle, and Jisung. He tried to repeat them over and over again to avoid mistaking someone with somebody else. While on the process of doing so, the six of them were smiling at him like he was a birthday boy in bed.

"Welcome to the family, Lee Donghyuck."

  
  
  
  
  


Chenle and Jisung volunteered to show Donghyuck around the castle and give him a tour.

The castle was vast and resplendent. To describe the interiors, Donghyuck didn’t know where to begin. He found it hard to believe he popped out of nowhere in such a place, a place that was beyond lofty grandeur.

The ground floor was comprised of the porch, lounge, dining room, and the kitchen with a small outdoor terrace sitting atop the pantry. The frescoed ceiling on the lobby towered so high it served as the fourth floor’s ceiling too, adorned with a Strauss-crystal chandelier. The ceiling of the first floor was held together by a set of fleeting, golden pillars surrounding the huge circle-shaped space on the lobby’s enameled floor.

“It’s big, right?” Chenle twirled around at the center with his arms spread wide open. “And it’s just about 0.5/4 of this castle.”

Donghyuck didn’t believe him. He didn’t until he stepped foot on the second floor.

Straight ahead the lobby were the elegantly palatial stairs split into two, rejoined together on the second floor, where the library, gallery, and great hall were. The bed chambers, clinic, and the bathroom were on the third floor, far further upstairs than Donghyuck thought, because who in their right mind would endure a flight of stairs down after waking up in the morning, barely ready for breakfast?

The fourth floor was said to be empty at most times according to Jisung, as it was just another massive lounge with stairs, corridors, and a hollowed-out piano. There was a mezzanine where blackboards served as walls. Nobody knew who wrote scientific researches and mathematical equations on them using chalk. The handwriting matched none of the kids' currently residing in the castle. One quick look at them makes Donghyuck’s eyes hurt.

All the walls were lined and bordered with intricate Victorian patterns, sometimes with a mix of floral designs, and Donghyuck for a second believed the wallpaper used was cast by magic to last for that long as it never blemished or discolored as the time passed by. The pristine tiles on the floor were as exalted as the carved concave patterns on the stair railings or better yet, the portraits on the second floor of famous musicians, scientists, and politicians, whom Donghyuck couldn't even remember the names of but Edgar Allan Poe.

"Are you sure we're living in this castle for free?"

"Yes," Chenle grinned. "Rent-free. We don't even have jobs to earn money."

"Then where do we get food, clothes, and the like? The water and electricity too. Are there no such bills here?"

"No," Jisung shook his head. "None of us are paying for anything because everything is provided for free. You’re craving a bite of a blueberry muffin? You check the fridge and there you go. You want to wear sweatpants? Just open your wardrobe and you're settled. We're not teenage dirtbags anymore. We're just souls being monitored."

Donghyuck wanted to ask _monitored how?_ but sealed his lips, not wanting to annoy the two with his endless inquiries. He didn't understand what Jisung's point was, and he wouldn’t probably know for long. He shrugged the thought off as the three of them got off the terrace and walked out the porch.

The weather was neither hot nor drizzly. Grey clouds accumulated and shrouded the entire sky. It was just cold. One look at it had Chenle tell Donghyuck that there was only a little chance of rain incoming, and the breeze made Donghyuck shiver in his thin, knitted sweater.

From outside, the castle looked ancient and portentous. Donghyuck planned to stare at it longer and observe the shapes of the windows and guess which tower is which when the younger duo called him over to show him the land. It'd be barren if not for the tall trees and the cliffs, the roaring waves of the oceans crashing at the island's teeth. There was a graveyard about twenty meters away from the front porch, to which the forest followed.

"I know this might sound crazy to you, but we're in purgatory."

"Pur– _what?_ " Donghyuck snorted. "What are you saying? That we're dead?"

"Yes, we are. Hence your blank memories."

"No way. I didn't even know purgatory exists."

"Purgatory has different settings for a set of dead people, you see," Jisung elaborated. "And we happened to end up here. This deserted island, a castle up the hill, a forest surrounding that castle, a graveyard, then the sea... Well, past the sea is just a vast space, so leaving this island will be useless. Renjun hyung said we shouldn't think we're at somewhere on planet Earth because it's true that we are not."

"That's why you should never underestimate how they make purgatories," said Chenle with a sour laugh. "They're places like no other on Earth, but they're still dreadful places because they come with punishments."

"Punishments? What kind of punishments?"

Jisung hummed, eyeing the horizon, as he tried to find and gather the right words.

"You'll see some other night. Since we're going to welcome you as a new family member tonight, both heaven and hell must allow punishments to be put aside as per respect for you."

"Wow. Okay. But how do we get out of this purgatory shit?"

"That’s simple. We atone for our sins."

"Then I should atone as soon as I can," Donghyuck stated. "I do not want to be here forever."

"Oh, actually, you can't atone if you don't know your sin. You'll find out what your sin is though."

"How?"

"By dreaming."

"Uh, what?" Donghyuck furrowed his eyebrows in scrutiny. "Are you sure this isn't a joke? Or maybe you kidnapped me here, gave me amnesia and I have a family at home who is worried to death about me?"

Chenle hung his mouth wide open in shock, “no, absolutely not.”

“Or maybe this is just a dream because I swear to God I need to wake up! This is ridiculous!”

Chenle watched in horror as Donghyuck incessantly slapped himself on both cheeks.

"We're telling you the truth. None of us know what our sins were. We’ve had several dreams of our past lives, but we haven’t pieced everything together," Jisung scrunched his nose. "So none of us has atoned yet. Maybe I won't even want to."

"And why is that?"

Donghyuck watched the way Jisung's cheeks puffed.

"Because the castle is getting more homey day by day, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I've formed a bond with the hyungs."

Chenle sniggered, "even with all those gory events that happen every night?"

"I mean, we always survive anyway. Always, no matter how traumatic they can be."

"Whoa whoa whoa, slow down. What happens every night?"

"Uh, I don't know how to explain," Chenle flattened his lips into a thin line. "To see is to believe, right? It'd be best if you just see for yourself."

Jisung then pointed out that they had reached the end of the forest and were now standing at the borderline of the island's cliff, whereas beneath it was where the rocky surface of the land met with the waters. Donghyuck vacuously stared at the shore. A part of him hoped its depth would unveil something, maybe secrets if not his reflection.

"I don't remember who I am."

"Was," Jisung corrected.

"And I also don't remember what happened before I blacked out."

"We all don't remember our sins and what we have done to end up here, and it's probably because you weren't here till now."

Donghyuck crossed his arms at Chenle's response. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You'll see tonight."

"Oh, speaking of tonight, Lele, we're going to hold a ritual. And it'll be the first ritual I'm going to participate in!"

Both youngsters whipped their heads to Donghyuck, who stared back at them in confusion. He laughed to preserve his sanity.

"I'm sorry, I'm not following. Come again?"

"A ritual for a new family member," Chenle said. "We do it every time someone is to be welcomed here. All purgatories practice them."

"All of us have been through the same. You'd think it might be bad, but actually, it isn't that bad."

"But it'll be somewhat painful in the beginning."

"Oh?" Donghyuck raised an eyebrow. "Well, I don't understand any of what you are saying, but okay. If you say it isn't that bad, then… Okay.”

“You believe us?”

Donghyuck puckered his lips.

“You’ve fed me lunch, after all."

  
  
  
  
  


It was that bad.

Donghyuck's mind was practically screaming at itself that it was bad, and what on Earth had he gotten himself to? Was this really purgatory? One minute he was drinking tea with Chenle and Jisung by the kitchen counter, the next he was passed out. He opened his eyes eagerly only to be met by red, fluorescent bulbs focused on him. Maybe not on him, but their neon shade made him feel like they bore intentions of penetrating every part of his body.

As he fluttered his eyes open after getting used to the fluorescent lights, he tried to pick up sounds originating from a conversation within the vicinity. If he was not mistaken, that was Renjun's voice, and he was complimenting Jaemin for a substance he made... To mix in his tea?

"No wonder he was so deep in his sleep."

"I just followed the instructions in that one Alchemy book I found in the library."

"I did the same back then to make Jeno faint for his ritual and nothing happened. Ask Mark, he was there."

"Huh," Jaemin wore a smug grin. "Maybe I was a chemist in my past life."

"Wait, he's awake!"

All eyes fell on him. He couldn't see them as he was lying flat on the floor, all of his limbs chained to something. He can smell paint everywhere. He discerned the domed ceiling, acknowledging the candlelit chandelier dangling above the hexagonal lobby and all stories.

They were in the lobby. The somewhat sombre lobby. Whatever mischief they were going to induce like a witch's play dolls, Donghyuck will be their victim. Their experiment subject. Or at least that was what Donghyuck convinced himself.

"Guys?" He called out, shaking. "Chenle? Jisung? W-What's happening? What are you doing to me?"

"Calm down," said Chenle, his tone so calm and flat it scared Donghyuck. "We're performing the welcoming ritual on you."

_What are they talking about?_ Donghyuck wanted to ask. _Is this a satanic ritual? On me?_

"Let's make this quick, please," Renjun pleaded. "I want to get a good night’s sleep now. I haven't slept in four days."

Donghyuck pretended not to hear him. He was tied to the middle of a hexagram they drew with white chalk. An ominous symbol was drawn on him with red paint, his knitted sweater bathed in the thick, fetid liquid. His tears were welling up, supposed he couldn't control them. The strong smell of lead coming from the paint stung his nasal, causing him to choke.

"Don't worry," Mark came into view. "It will hurt less if you don't worry. We're doing this for you, after all."

Donghyuck, albeit his vision still blurry, could make out Mark approaching closer as he stroked his tears-stained cheek, the gesture so sweet and loving Donghyuck forgot what he had seen for a second. Mark bent down on one knee beside his body.

He nodded at the others who were seated at their respective points on the hexagram, leaning against the gilded, salient pillars. They took this as a sign to begin, ready to risk their vigor for the sake of a new boy in their home. They shut their eyes and settled on meditating positions.

Mark used a kitchen knife to slit his own wrist, to which Donghyuck shakily reacted. Drops of his blood spilled onto his cheeks before rolling across his nose like freckles, adorning his skin that was once rosy red in color.

"Just consume my blood. Then it'll be over."

Donghyuck shook his head. Mark took this as his cue to open Donghyuck's mouth by force, his bleeding wrist in position to drip a few amounts of drops onto his tongue. It was horrendous, if not as horrendous as the green jelly Donghyuck ate with Renjun for brunch that day. His blood tasted metallic, pungent even, and it had a sharp aftertaste he couldn't describe with his senses alone.

"Mark," Renjun audibly grunted. "I can't handle it anymore."

"Me too," Jaemin could feel pain building in his stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Jeno sighed in disbelief, turning to Mark. "Please."

Without saying anything, Chenle and Jisung fixated their focus, eyes still shut although they can already feel the throes drowning the energy from the marrow of their bones. It was too much. The ritual was too much. And the Mark standing in the middle of the hexagram, standing before Donghyuck, he wasn't Mark. He wasn’t the same Mark who used to do the same ritual on them when they each first came, provided their assumptions.

Mark may also be not himself whenever it was the darkest of the night, and their knowledge of him could go as far to the flats of shovels abandoned under Earth. However, the Mark who leaned in to give Donghyuck a gentle kiss on the forehead had a death grip on his waist as he watched Donghyuck convulse as far as his shackles would let him– not the Mark they were familiar with. He didn't flinch at the sight of Donghyuck's pupils going to the back of his head while he tried to break free.

Renjun dismissed the thought and continued to let the hexagram suck his sacrificed, spectral energy. The others did the same.

Donghyuck went silent for a moment before passing out. The rest took deep breaths, desperate to avoid the unexplainable power about to dominate their weak-willed bodies as unless their lungs were about to give up. Mark released Donghyuck from the shackles that bound him, taking him into his arms and lifting him up like a bride. Donghyuck was surprisingly light for a boy like him, and Mark had no complaints.

And when they presumed everything was fine, for now, everything went haywire. Mark was the only one who seemed undisturbed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "You'll have to take care of this while I take care of him."

"Hey, they're sick!" Jeno complained. "You won't help?!"

"You'll all be okay again in the morning, or will you not?"

The lights flickered. A strong gust of wind gyrated around them even though there were no windows nearby, and the candles on the chandelier and the ones that once surrounded Donghyuck’s body on the circle were blown, the smoke diffusing in the air.

Not only inanimate objects were perturbed, but also the ritual's participants, the ones that kept it going. Jaemin gagged, vomiting a black goo while Renjun fainted with little energy left in him, so Jeno left his post and ran to their aid. Chenle and Jisung bolted up the stairs. It'll not be known if they were dashing to the clinic to assist Renjun and Jaemin, or they were heading straight to bed to have the best, refreshing sleep they never had for days, weeks even.

Mark left the lobby without turning back to his friends. Their new family member was his top priority now, as it is his role as the head and the eldest. The boy had sparked something in him. Just as he had been baptized as another person they now share the same blood and flesh with, Mark knew why his presence alone made him feel weak.

He went up, up the wrought-iron stairs, headed to their room, and laid him down on his bed. As blood has stopped flowing through his veiny wrist, Mark muttered a prayer to the uncaring, starless sky to wish Donghyuck sweet dreams.

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck was in the middle of nowhere. Or he assumed so himself.

He walked towards a railroad. A strong haze of fog hindered his sight. He was wearing the same knitted sweater, except it was spotless and redolent as it had been in the first place. Donghyuck didn’t have the slightest idea how, but his pair of feet led him past a railroad crossing’s gate.

The train's signal echoed, a signal that signified its nearing. Donghyuck turned a deaf ear upon it as the rustling of wheels against metal grew louder. He did nothing but shut his eyes closed. The train was approaching nearer, and nearer and nearer–

For a moment within the vein of his heart did he feel no pain, no remorse, and no regrets for himself. The vehicle hit him, the impact bringing the worst sort of pain on his body, gashing him, tearing his limbs apart, and even crushing his ribs as they made disturbing, crackling sounds of bones he so hated to hear–

He woke up in cold sweat.

He gasped for air, jouncing when he saw Mark sitting beside him. He was staring at Donghyuck like someone who had been waiting for him to wake up.

"Did you dream?"

"Y-Yes, and i-it's– I was–"

"Don't tell us yet. Don't tell anyone what you dreamt about, okay? None of us are supposed to find out or things will get confusing unless we agree to it. Understood?"

Donghyuck nodded. He was puzzled, but if that was what Mark said, then so be it. He seemed the most trustworthy, after all.

"C'mon. Time for breakfast."

Donghyuck peered around the room for a short while, then it came to him. He and Mark shared a room, a bed at that too.

  
  
  
  
  


The day passed. Having meals with six other strangers he had only known for a day, in which case they shouldn’t be strangers to him anymore, was becoming less awkward. They were nice and welcoming, acting like nothing happened the night before. They offered him all sorts of food as they grew a liking and interest to Donghyuck’s palatial tastes and his preferences. There was not a second where Donghyuck felt left out.

That afternoon, Donghyuck went out of the castle to get fresh air when he saw Renjun and Jaemin from the front porch. He squinted to see better, swallowing a lump when it appeared to him that they seemed to be slow dancing in the middle of the graveyard.

They brought a radio with them to dance to, but the song just... Put Donghyuck off. He didn’t recognize the song, but it was eerie, not at all joyful for a dance, and worse, he could audibly pick up the lyrics. It looked like neither Renjun and Jaemin minded. 

_Tip-toe through the window_

_By the window, that is where I'll be_

_Come tip-toe through the tulips with me_

Donghyuck winced. As they spun slowly, Renjun's head leaning against Jaemin's broad shoulder, he could perceive Renjun silently crying, the tear tracks visible on his blotched face.

The song continued. Jaemin's eyes remained closed. His hands had a vice-like grip on Renjun's, and he was giving him a few rubs on the back as an act of consolation.

_Knee deep in flowers we'll stray_

_We'll keep the showers away_

Donghyuck backed off, his steps producing crunched noises against the dried leaves beneath his shoes. With one last, fearful look at the two, he went back inside the castle to help Jeno make dinner.

  
  
  
  
  


"Guys," Renjun had assembled them together at the fancy dining room by eight in the evening. "Were you all able to lucid dream last night with the absence of the poltergeists thanks to Donghyuck's welcoming ritual?"

Everybody nodded. Donghyuck didn’t understand. Poltergeists? Welcoming ritual? He was as confused as ever, but he nodded anyway, gulping.

"Good, because I did too," Renjun said. "So, can all of us remember now how we died, or what our sins were that were grave enough to send us all here?"

"I killed myself," Jaemin said straightforwardly. Donghyuck was surprised that no one batted an eyelash.

"Me too," Jeno said.

"Me three!" Chenle chirped.

"Oh, cool," Mark commented. "Because I did too."

"And I did the same," Jisung gasped. “It’s getting interesting.”

"So everyone here killed themselves, I included," said Renjun, cocking his head to Donghyuck. "What about you?"

"Uh, me?" Donghyuck didn't know what to say. His mind flashed him his short dream from that morning, uncertain if he really did kill himself. He clearly heard the train approach. He ignored it, and he stopped his tracks right there in the middle of the railroad as if to get hit on purpose. "Ah, yes. I killed myself too, I guess."

"Of course he would," Jeno said. "People in the same purgatory setting are people who committed the same crime before they died. I read about that in the library."

"Ugh," Renjun rolled his eyes. "I'm so sick of people considering suicide as a crime, and now I'm placed in this purgatory shit to find out that even God and the devil think the same as the law?"

"Soooo," Chenle droned. "If we killed ourselves and we're here in purgatory, does that mean we have to atone for that lone sin?"

"Why would we feel sorry for ourselves?" Jaemin scoffed. "We all thought it was the only way to end our suffering. And we didn't really kill ourselves. People did."

Mark tapped his fingers against the floor to cope with boredom. "Jaemin's right. They're the ones who should be stuck here instead of us."

Donghyuck was slowly picking up things, comprehending them. Maybe that was where it became difficult to atone for their sins. They killed themselves out of rage or self-pity, or something more than those, taken into account that emotions are strong and could go out of hand.

Renjun turned to the grandfather's clock.

"It's almost nine."

"Ooo! Three hours to go till everything goes down to hell."

"Oh god. There will be a lot of screaming tonight."

Donghyuck blinked.

_"What?"_

  
  
  
  
  


Time moved faster in purgatory than Donghyuck had expected.

It was around 11, probably, and Donghyuck was left alone in his shared room with Mark. He had a lot of unanswered questions, one of them about Mark. He still didn’t know why out of all options did he have to stay with him in one room in a castle consisting of rooms they can't count. But at least the room was luxurious by looks despite being antiquated, and every spot seemed to be well-furnished.

Donghyuck had been staring at the ceiling for a while now. He couldn't sleep. Perhaps it was because he was waiting for Mark to come back, or because he felt like the ceiling was staring back at him. Mark left him alone about an hour ago, saying he had something to tend to and that he'd be back soon. But Donghyuck, apparently, kept track of the time, and he had confirmed it himself that Mark wasn't back so soon. All those seconds of him being trapped in a trance passed by on a whim and not one part of him wanted to process the cryptic sounds of tapping that came from under the cabinet. If it was a poltergeist, then Donghyuck wasn't scared. Not scared for now perchance since all his thoughts revolved around the one boy he considered to be the most attractive one he’d seen.

The wall clock struck a new hour. The seconds were unhurried yet seemed endless.

Where the hell was he?

He gave up on waiting and bounced out of bed, wearing the bunny slippers Jaemin had given to him earlier that day as a welcome gift. He scurried past the halls and corridors with barely any source of light as doubts about Mark lingered in his head. He could've taken Mark's kerosene lamp that sat on their windowsill all day, but he couldn't go back and waste his time. He had night vision, God bless.

The castle's halls and rooms were unsullied. He hadn't been here for a week, but he already knew who, by chance, was responsible for scrubbing every corner. Forming a new bond with these strangers? Likely. But what kind of people would consider someone a family on the first day of their meeting?

Atypical people, that’s who, said the voice inside Donghyuck’s head.

And why, why out of all nights the lobby had to be deserted now when the others had implied there would be supernatural elements that might be out for blood? Was everybody sleeping? Peacefully? Chenle and Jisung in particular, were they?

Going down the stairs in a hurried pace, Donghyuck's grip on the railing remained tight. Flies were buzzing around him somehow when the only source of light came from the chandelier, which kept flickering nonstop as if someone blending in the dark was toying with it. Donghyuck dismissed it as an electrical problem and ran to the back of the stairs, wherein a dark hall he had never been into nor seen before was there in plain sight.

And it was not just a shady hall. He couldn't see anything, but the chandelier from the other side of the floor was helping him bit by bit, although dim on account of its distance. There was something underneath his steps.

It really wasn't just a shady hall. On the first tile of the hall was a path down the dark, and he could make out shallow, oaken stairs leading to the unlit. And it was not just stairs either. The unsettling feeling of nausea morphed in his stomach, itching to puke at the faint trace of a stench his nostrils had whiffed.

He wished everything was just a dream, except it wasn't. It was real. This is what Donghyuck was seeing. This was purgatory.

Trails of footsteps imprinted on blood were on the carpeted floor, on the stairs leading downwards, the rest left unseen by the dark from where Donghyuck was standing frozen. Donghyuck tried to debate with himself if he should follow or not before insisting on the first option. He followed, the tenebrosity absorbing him undividedly.

It was narrow down the stairs so he had to squeeze himself in as much as possible, grateful that he didn't bump himself on the low ceiling.

"Oh shit," he cursed, startled when the light bulbs mounted on the walls to his left and right automatically flashed on. As he walked farther, breath shortening, the bulbs reacted accordingly to each of his steps. That didn't even matter anymore. He proceeded, hoping to meet any of his newfound friends at the end of the hallway. "Chenle? Jisung? Are you guys there?"

The footprints were yet to stop. The farther Donghyuck walked, the fresher the blood on the prints were compared to the ones by the stairs, which had dried to brownish red due to oxidation. Whoever was ahead of him at the end of the hall, they were behind the beads of red soaking the ornate carpet.

"Mark?" He rasped. "Please tell me it's just you out there."

A few seconds more did he use to stall until he reached the end of the hall. Hope glistened in his eyes as he peeked into a room lit by a lone candle. Donghyuck still barely saw anything, but he took note of two presences by dint of his sixth sense. They must be two of his new housemates. They should be.

The next thing he saw was unparalleled to a frightening scene in those man-made films in VHS recorders Donghyuck found under Renjun's bed (oh yes, he had certainly not been spying). He wanted to curse, because _holy fuck, holy fucking fuck, what's going on?_

He saw someone– or something– feasting on a body as the smell of blood wafted in the air. Donghyuck crinkled his face in disgust, chanting prayers in his head in hopes of getting out the basement alive. The nausea building up in his stomach was getting worse, and he’d feel liable if his insides smeared the art on the carpet.

This must be a dream, but what could be more vivid than Donghyuck finding bloody trails that led him to a room decorated with Victorian furniture, Victorian walls, Victorian everything, where one of his friends was eating another beneath a pond of– Donghyuck couldn't even find himself to say it– blood?

He was about to dare storm inside the room and pry his friend off the victim being preyed on when he felt a warm hand drag him back from behind.

"Donghyuck!" Mark's voice came out more like a whisper. "What are you doing in the basement?"

Donghyuck was starting to sweat excessively. At this point, he knew no more if he was still capable of forming decent sentences.

"J-Jaemin is–"

"Oh, he's just having that kind of night phase," Mark had a peep inside the room. He laughed, much to Donghyuck's suspicions arising, and Mark just waved his hand at Jaemin like nothing was happening. "Have fun eating, just don't eat us!"

"W-What–"

"As for you, Donghyuck, I have to get you out of here, or else he'll eat you too," Mark said, leading him back to where he came from and up the stairs. "And we need to hide from the poltergeists."

By the time they were back up the lobby, to the plain floor laid out in front of the stairs leading to the stories, Donghyuck yanked his hand off Mark's grasp.

"What were you saying?! I don't understand!" He hollered. "What do you mean 'have fun eating'?! You're just gonna let Jeno die?! Is that it?!"

"No, no, Hyuck, Jaemin is not a killer, and Jeno is most certainly not dead–"

"Are you blind? Did you not see what Jaemin was doing to him? He was tearing him open! He was munching on– h-his heart! Someone was being killed right in front of me! Or are you just denying everything because they're your friends? Because they're your _family?"_

"Donghyuck, this is–"

"Purgatory, I know, I believe it even when I find it hard to! I get it, anything can happen, but isn't that too much? Killing your, I don't know, purgatory-mates?"

"Hyuck, I swear we can all explain by morning. You must listen to me. You and I are going to hide for the rest of the night so the poltergeists can't touch us. I promise you, this is for the best."

"But Mark–"

Before Donghyuck could even finish his sentence, he was promptly ceased when they felt the icy, merciless breeze blowing past them. They're in the middle of the lobby, the same spot where they performed a ritual on Donghyuck last night, as the chandelier continued to flicker above their heads.

"It's cold," Donghyuck croaked. The temperature was getting unbearable. "... Am I going to die?"

Mark didn't budge a muscle.

"Don't turn around. It's behind us."

Donghyuck, on the other hand, was a trembling mess. The light from the chandelier faintly illuminated the sight before Donghyuck, his eyes identifying an indistinct locomotion ten meters away, between the pillars. The kitchen. He was looking at the kitchen.

The cupboards seemed to move. The swinging, creaky noises were the only sound they could hear. Donghyuck wasn't dizzy enough to excuse that it was only a hallucination, or better yet, that he was just dreaming.

As much as it seemed illusive, at the same time it did look explicit.

"M-Mark... There's something in the kitchen."

Donghyuck began to cry, voiceless, his muffled screams provoking his tears to well up in his eyes. He flinched when Chenle's shriek echoed through the walls.

"I think I broke my leg–!"

Mark and Donghyuck couldn't see them, not from the first floor and most especially not when the night was dipped to its bottom, but they did hear a series of 'thud' afterwards. One or two of them must've fallen down the stairs that connected the fourth and third floors. That sounded painful, Donghyuck pondered.

For a moment, they didn't feel like something was trying to bore a hole into their bodies from behind. Donghyuck turned to Mark, disconcert written all over his face.

"Will they be okay?"

Mark assured him with a nod. In a situation like this, that was better than any uncertain answer.

"I have a secret room," Mark said. "But you have to promise me you'll never tell anyone about it."

Donghyuck reluctantly nodded. They drew closer to the grandfather clock situated against the wall. The younger waited for Mark to do something, curbing the urge to empty his own intestines.

Mark pushed the clock with ease as if it was constructed to be slid aside. Disclosed was a confined closet, like a vent with nothing ahead but a polished wall, where five people could fit in if compressed together. Mark pulled Donghyuck inside and let the clock shut them in. It was pitch black throughout. Donghyuck’s night vision became futile.

"Are you claustrophobic?" Mark asked. "We'll get out and find another place if you can't breathe."

"I can, luckily," Donghyuck replied. "What happened to that thing that was behind us?"

"It went after Chenle and Jisung instead."

"What?" Donghyuck scorned. "Y-You're just gonna let them suffer like that? They are children, Mark. They need–"

"I care about them too, but I can’t let the poltergeists eat you up!"

"You... You selfish prick!"

Anger flooded his veins. Deprived of perception, Donghyuck manifested his rage through the motions of his fists, throwing punches at him. He hit him as hard as he could, smoldered with resentment, inwardly seething. That was not enough.

"Okay, that's enough."

Mark gently tugged Donghyuck by the shoulder. Donghyuck found no strength left in him to fight back, his mind wrecked by all the things he had seen, heard, and felt. He submitted to Mark's gesture, unable to say anything when he started to rub circles on his back.

"You won't die, but you'll wish you could."

Donghyuck stayed silent. Mark’s words resonated through his nerves. It must be a massacre out there, his thoughts provided, and he couldn’t imagine what the others were going through while he sat in a room with little to no space.

"I just want to be normal again."

Mark tightened his embrace.

"I'm sorry. You can't."

They stayed there until the sun arose. Being an inch close to Mark, smelling his fragrance, laying a hand on the puffiness of his dandruff-free hair, it was aberrant in a way Donghyuck couldn’t comprehend. His protectiveness too had knocked Donghyuck out of his senses like he had been hit by the suburban train. Mark, Mark, Mark. His thoughts about Mark were all over the place. Why was it always Mark?

_Why Mark?_

Donghyuck wept on his shoulder. They were in a terrible, space enclosed of walls, mold creaking within, and Donghyuck could smell the scent of Mark's lemon shampoo.

He loved his scent. He really did.

  
  
  
  
  


Another day, another set of three meals. Mark and Donghyuck had fallen asleep in that narrow closet behind the grandfather clock, grateful that no one among their housemates witnessed them coming out of it that time of dawn.

Renjun and Chenle were in charge of cooking, so there were no protests heard.

Only when Donghyuck walked in, rubbing his eyes, the first pair of people he laid his eyes on was Jaemin and Jeno, eliciting a gasp. They looked healthy as ever, no traces of blood imprinted on their pajamas.

"I thought I saw... Never mind."

Renjun raised a brow. "Spit it out."

Donghyuck tried not to glance at Jeno, who on the contrary was eating his omelet with manners.

"I-I saw Jaemin rip his head off and pull out his heart."

Renjun frowned, turning his head to Jaemin. The latter didn't bother looking up to see Donghyuck's terrified expression. "Is Jeno really the most delicious one among us?"

"Next to you, Injun, of course, but I couldn't find you anywhere."

"And I just obliged, because I had nothing better to do than be dead for the rest of the night," said Jeno. "Of course I wouldn't want to put up with all those disturbances upstairs."

"Damn you, Jaemin." Renjun faked a gag. "I was hiding in the kitchen cupboards."

"Oh," Donghyuck sighed. "So that noise was you."

"Yeah, I was holding an axe and almost killed Chenle."

"I think I would've preferred that than running around senseless," Chenle said. "Last night's journey took a toll on me."

Donghyuck huffed. "Um, but what do you mean? The cannibalism... That's normal?"

Renjun smiled at him, bleak.

"We're not humans anymore, Hyuck. But purgatory will do anything to keep us alive if we're never going to atone for our sins."

"... Your point?"

"We can be anything but humans. Cannibals, bloodsuckers, all sorts of monsters, you name it. And even in the darkest of nights, we may find ourselves craving for things we're not supposed to crave for as humans."

“Because we’re not humans anymore.”

Donghyuck couldn't say exactly that he understood. He didn't get a single detail, then recalled what Chenle told him back at the cliff the other day.

To see is to believe. But if they were talking about a feeling Donghyuck had yet to feel, then he would feel it for himself soon to see and believe.

“You know what’s left of us as former humans?” Jaemin added. “Emotions. We are still capable of them.”

That, for one thing, was comprehensive. And maybe that's the trace of their humanity, the one, lone characteristic of a human that was left in their tainted souls.

He ate his pancakes in silence, intently listening to their chatters about their disturbing experiences from last night.

"I heard you shout that you broke your leg," Donghyuck turned to Chenle. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I am. I fell down the stairs when Jisung pushed me. I can still walk, luckily."

"You weren't running fast enough, and they were out there to get us!" Jisung argued.

"Ji’, there was no need to push at all!"

"Then better run faster next time, coward."

"You're the coward if you run too fast.”

“What?”

“You know what they say. The faster you run, the more of a coward you are."

  
  
  
  
  


Mark and Donghyuck lost to a game of rock-paper-scissors with their five other friends, leaving them with the chore of washing the dishes.

"I have so many questions," Donghyuck spoke, rinsing the dishes Mark passed onto him. "Those ghosts who haunt us, and those people buried at the graveyard... Why are they here?"

"Oh, they're souls of people who were here before us. Their bodies are buried in the graveyard out of respect. I don’t know about the poltergeists, but I think they’re the most disturbed souls who can’t rest in peace.”

"... Before us? There were people who were here before us?"

"This is purgatory. We won't stay here forever, but we won’t get out of here either if we won't make up for our sins."

"Wait, no, no. Tell me about those people."

Mark explained, plainly, the fact that those people who were there before them died without atoning, and died the same way they did in their past lives, which, at first, made no sense to Donghyuck.

"How do you know that?"

"Come with me. It's better if I show you."

"Where are we going?"

"The graveyard."

  
  
  
  
  


“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable when I made you drink my blood.”

“No, it’s okay. Gross, but I think that was necessary. What was it for anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Every eldest in each generation that strived in the same purgatory must give their blood to all newcomers that come and go. It’s like an offering to God. If it was not done, who knows, things might get worse here.”

“Wait! You’re saying the rest of us all has your blood in us?!”

“I’d be an acting father to everyone, but considering the age gap and informality, I decided to drop it off,” Mark shrugged. “But yes, I’m in your fleshes.”

“Oh god.”

Donghyuck balanced himself on his boots, breathing in the fresh air brought by the season as he followed Mark from behind.

"Those seven tombstones at the back." Mark pointed at them as they tramped towards it, the autumn leaves crumbling underneath their shoes. "The ones at the left, as you see."

"What about them?" Donghyuck scanned the names carved on them. Lee Taeyong, Kim Dongyoung, Johnny Suh, and the list went on. "Do you know them?"

“They were the brothers I never had before everything went wrong.” Mark said, despondent. "I was the only one who survived. Until Renjun came. He was followed by the rest, and you. I don’t think I’d be blessed with a new family who'd give me eternal happiness if not for them."

"What happened to them? These people, I mean?"

There was a pause. Tension in the air. Donghyuck caught a glimpse of the way Mark pressed his lips together, giving away his dubiety.

"It's okay if you don't tell me."

Mark shook his head. His gaze was still fixated on the graves, his pupils so dull as if he’d devoid of emotions within him. He scanned the letters carved on the tombstones. Donghyuck’s keen observation drove him into thinking if Mark had been the one to bury them. Not to mention the fact the letters weren't as elegant as the ones carved on the tombstones of strangers beneath the land they were stepping on, rather, they looked like they've been written by a kindergarten kid.

"They went batshit crazy.”

“Pardon?”

“They killed themselves."

"... Oh," Donghyuck felt like he'd been impaled with an iron rod. "Why would they do that?"

"They couldn't handle it, Hyuck. They couldn't wait anymore because they said nothing was going to happen to them, and because they said they will never be sorry for their sins. Just like us," Mark seemed glazed, his emotions concealed. "That's why I'm scared that the same thing will happen to us."

"No, Mark, no. We'll make sure it doesn't happen to us. We are a family, right?"

"Yeah. You're right," Mark took a deep breath. Donghyuck, for a second, had a good look of Mark’s facial features. His imposing physiognomy aside, he looked pallid. "And I'm actually glad their souls are resting in peace."

"Eh?"

"They won't haunt us, Hyuck. They're not among those poltergeists that keep us at night and live in our heads. I know them. They would never do that."

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck didn't keep track of the time that day, so he was quite confounded when the sun had vanished into the thin line of the horizon, its rays of light dwindling. All he had done after lunch was rake leaves at the yard with Chenle and Jisung. They ate dinner as always with no one left behind, and this time, Jeno was entrusted as the cook.

His food tasted amazing, his hands as prodigious as Jaemin’s if not more. Jeno took their compliments well, saying it was nothing, and Donghyuck hoped to learn from him someday.

Donghyuck felt exhaustion wash over him as soon as he was brushing his teeth one hour before his usual bedtime, so he fell into slumber in just seven minutes without Mark by his side.

On the other side of the castle, in the middle of the tower of spiral stairs, Jeno heard screams that faded into the chasm. Those screams came from outside the castle. Incipiently, Jeno thought those were only poltergeists being shooed away by God knows who, maybe Mark or Jaemin, when another scream tore into the misty air. The deepness of the night sharpened his senses by prompting him to hear the cruelest, strained melody of gashes scraping somebody's skin. Paranoia spoke to him with the guess of fecund leaves outside being dipped in red ink by now, his lungs tightening in dread.

Just as he was to crash out of the nearest window, as it was the nearest escape route from where he was at the moment, his arm was seized by the wrist, flinching. His facial muscles relaxed upon seeing the face of a friend.

"Jen’, I'm hungry. You know what that means."

"I'm sorry, Injun, not now. Where is Mark? And Jaemin?"

"They're in the basement with Jisung trying to make him sleep. That kid has been having hard times trying to sleep."

"In the basement?! Are you sure they're not eating each other? W-What if Jisung sees something he shouldn't see–"

"Jen’, you still haven't answered my question."

"Oh. I don't think tonight is a good idea."

"Why?"

"Chenle might be in the forest."

Before Renjun could query, the jarring sound of glass breaking ruptured his eardrums. Shards of window glass plunged to the ground fifteen meters below them.

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck woke up, thankful for the restful sleep he had for once even though he had to put up with the rattling cabinet for three hours before dozing off. He dreamt about playing with his sister and brothers in the playground, running around as he chased them in a game of tag. They all looked happy, no indication of sorrow present, their mother holding up an old film camera to take pictures of such a memory while they yawped and laughed about it as two of them tripped on a branch and tumbled down on the sand.

Donghyuck didn't know how it happened, how he got here, why he was here. His dreams were recollections from his past life he was supposed to cherish, but why would his subliminal mind do that to him? It was something he had been trying to figure out, about him, his new friends, their identities, himself included. How come they'd all be bathing in blood, eating each other like the freshest meat they have in stock by luck? How is that Renjun could kill someone with an axe if somebody ever wronged him? Why would Jeno's abdomen be ripped open with a scalpel and his intestines would be flowing out onto the carpet, then when the sun appears, everything somehow goes back to normal? How come?

And then something in him would tell him the most ridiculous thing he'd ever hear, from Renjun specifically, yet also the only fact that makes sense: they can be anything but human in such a place, where any desire to live is defamed by obligation.

As he was walking down the halls, Donghyuck snapped back to reality when he passed by the clinic, the same one where he first emerged. He heard voices coming from inside, so he peaked in to see who were gathered.

He saw Renjun and Jeno peering over a bed, where Donghyuck assumed someone was lying down, unconscious. They were blocking Donghyuck's line of sight, so he went closer until they took notice of his morning presence wearing a bathrobe with nothing underneath.

"What happened?"

Jeno had a terrified look on his face while Renjun tried to remain as blasé as possible, though Donghyuck sees through him and his disquietude. The two of them moved aside, letting Donghyuck lay his eyes on the bed.

Donghyuck took a shaky, deep breath. Chenle was lying there, asleep, skin lacking color than usual. Renjun and Jeno might've taken off his shirt for he was wearing nothing but his plaid pajama pants from last night. The rest of his body was naked and exposed to the ruthless cold.

"What's the big deal?" Donghyuck asked, chuckling nervously. "He seems fine to me. Just… Pale."

"That's because you haven't seen his back," Renjun said, patting Jeno on the shoulder as if to impel his measures. "This brat never learns."

Donghyuck watched as Renjun and Jeno shoved Chenle from his supine lying position gently to reveal his back. It almost gave Donghyuck a stroke. It looked horrendous, too horrendous even for someone dead to put up with.

"W-What is that?" Donghyuck stuttered, tightening his robe's waist ribbon to keep his sweating hands busy. "... Where did all those scars come from?"

"He went to the woods last night."

"And?"

"The forest spirits got him good."

There were three unhealed scars scratched diagonally on Chenle's back, ginormous to the point Donghyuck knew at one glance they weren't done by a human. They extended from the side of his chest to the area above his buttocks, the cuts too deep that some parts of it revealed stripped tissues beneath Chenle's skin and worse, his spinal cord, both bones and nerves stroked by the air.

Donghyuck blenched.

"Why would he go to the woods?"

"To run away from the poltergeists in this castle, I suppose," Jeno answered, placing Chenle back to lie on his back. "Mark warned us about forest spirits at night before, so everyone knows that they're much more vicious than our poltergeists. Something must've happened to Chenle last night to make him retreat to the woods."

"You don't think the poltergeists were about to do something bad to him, do you?"

"No way," Renjun shook his head disapprovingly. "The poltergeists mean no harm to you and have no intention of killing you or whatsoever. They just want to cause distraction and disturb you to vent their anger on. Chenle is just a scaredy cat."

"Oh," Donghyuck awkwardly nodded. "I'm sorry if I'm being too inquisitive."

"Ask right away," Jeno smiled at him. "We don't mind at all."

It must've been Jeno's nice and warm aura that fueled him to be open at all times, and Donghyuck was grateful for that.

"When will he wake up?"

"We're expecting tomorrow."

"Will his scars be healed? They look like they hurt too much."

"Yes, they'll be healed. They'll disappear soon after twenty-four hours, so don't you worry," Renjun curled his lips. "And yes, they hurt a lot, a fucking lot, taking into consideration the many tissues that were torn apart. Having them regenerate is much more painful than getting them shredded, so Chenle is lucky. He's going to stay asleep while his back will feel like it's on fire."

Jeno whipped his head to Renjun, narrowing his eyes. It was his turn to ask, "how do you know all that?"

Donghyuck turned to Renjun too, as if to say _same question, I'm curious_.

Renjun looked back at Jeno, offended. "You don't remember that night? The one where Jaemin went all cannibal-y on me and he thought I was dead but I wasn't?"

"He said you were brain-dead."

"No. I was just paralyzed, not brain-dead, and to give me the night I deserved, he disposed me in the forest and let the forest spirits devour me as soon as they smelled my flesh, and fuck I couldn't scream because my voice box was in Jaemin's stomach."

"... Oh," Jeno recoiled. "Oh my god, I totally forgot about that."

"Uh," picking up those words blanched the color in Donghyuck's face. "To tell you the truth, I think Jaemin is one of the nicest people I've ever met, so hearing that…"

"Makes you uncomfortable?" Renjun crossed his arms. "Yeah. You'll get used to it. All of us go a little crazy sometimes. We were suicidal maniacs when we were still humans, how could we not be crazy?"

"Hey," The corner of Jeno's upper lip twitched. "We aren't all that bad."

Their few seconds of silence were spent staring at Chenle's scrawny torso. Jeno took the role of slicing through it.

"You know 'Hyuck, I really think you're the last of us."

"I guess."

"And hey," Jeno winked at him. "We are family now."

That was true. He thought so.

"I can't believe I'm about to say this, but," Renjun quietly huffed. "Let's at least promise that we'll never turn our backs to each other."

  
  
  
  
  


It was in the dining room where Mark was reading a novel book by Sylvia Plath, one that he had picked out from the classic literature section in the library, having felt the urge to at least spend time in keeping his head drawn into a fictional story if he was not going to spend the day boring the hell out of himself, unable to fall asleep while the sun is out (his nightmares were going to get worse if he chose to keep it up, apparently).

He flipped to another page as the smell of sugared frosting scattered in the air, baking utensils and ingredients all unfurled on the kitchen counter. Jaemin was vigorously cracking eggs into the mixing bowl all the while Jisung was sitting across Mark, coloring pages on a coloring book using crayons. Mark had no idea where he got the box, but he didn't care anyway. His contact with the world was cut off by the headphones worn over his head.

"Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

Mark nodded with a puzzled look on his face. Jaemin cleared his throat, an attempt to be straightforward.

"Here's the thing. Why were you like that during Hyuck's trial? You should've posed nicer. You do know that you ruined Jisung's first ritual experience, right?"

"You know I can hear you." Jisung didn't look up from the page he was on, still coloring the edges of what appeared to be a mandala. "And yeah, Mark hyung, you were scary."

Jaemin gestured to Jisung, looking at Mark with a demoralizing look. "See? Even 'Sungie agrees."

Jaemin pranced back to the kitchen counter to go and add a few more dry ingredients into the mixing bowl. Grabbing a whisk, he started to mix by hand.

"I know I haven't been myself," Mark grabbed an apple from the center bowl and took a bite. "I don't know, okay? I think a poltergeist possessed me that night."

"Poltergeists possess humans, and we're not humans. They only fuck with our heads. We can't be possessed."

"Well, now I think they do."

Jaemin walked away from the kitchen counter as he ignored Mark's contradiction.

"Hey, you weren't like that when you held the same ritual for me. You weren't like that on Chenle and Jisung's rituals." Jaemin slammed the mixing bowl right in front of Mark, prompting the latter to tear away his gaze from the daunting words of the novel. "So that leaves me with only one plausible conclusion."

"What?"

"Are you in love with Donghyuck?"

Jisung shifted his attention to the two conversing people in front of him and stopped coloring. He didn't say anything, his facial muscles tensed in curiosity. He was quick to get bored of waiting for Mark's response, so he continued to color anyway.

Mark's dulcet yet weighted laughter echoed through the kitchen until it faded through the moorish, enchanting lanterns and highly valued paintings by Constance Mayer framed on the walls as if the atmosphere in the room rejected his voice by force. Both Jaemin and Jisung didn't waver at his awkwardness.

"Woah, that's a bit–"

"Then let me rephrase." Jaemin licked his lips. "Do you feel a twinge, a throbbing pain, or something like a strong desire to make him yours?"

"... Maybe?"

"Great. Because I feel the same thing with Injun and Jen."

Something snapped, like the sound of a heartstring being struck. The tip of Jisung's red crayon broke.

  
  
  
  
  


With the sun setting too soon, Donghyuck watching black and white films on the shitty television was later interrupted by Mark joining him on the couch.

Donghyuck chewed on a gummy bear Jeno gave him not long ago. He didn't spare a second to look at Mark.

"So... Another hell night?"

"Trust no one tonight." Mark firmly said. "That's all I wanted to say."

Donghyuck furrowed his brows swallowing the gum. "But I promised the others that we're a family."

"We're still not sure about that, so just trust no one, not even me." Mark shook his head before pointing to himself. "But I want you to trust me."

"You know, Mark, I'm really cool with these poltergeists things because I'm not scared of them. I know they hold grudges, and it's unjust to treat them like demons. But I don't think I'm cool with this devil jumping out of us thing. It's too crazy for me. I don't feel like being a cannibal or a killer here, heck, I'm supposed to atone for my sins to get out of here, or at least that's what you all are telling me."

"We feel like being a cannibal or a killer here because this is a place where we can vent out everything we want to get off our chests."

"Is that so? I can't relate, then."

"We'll see about that."

"Huh. Tell me again why none of you choose to atone for your grave sins."

"Because that was what should've been done. Not our faults, too. I thought it was clear to you by now."

Donghyuck pursed his lips in thought.

"You said nobody has gotten out of this purgatory alive, right?"

"It has been two generations for me," Mark said. "Nobody has ever atoned. Not a soul, not a somebody, and definitely not one of us either. We believe in that. After all, it's conceivable."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Jisung's whistling as the kid strode down the stairs was heard as he ambled to the kitchen in a relaxed manner. An enthusiastic 'dinner's ready, people!' came from the terrace above the kitchen, and Donghyuck could see Jeno by the dining room door gesturing and mouthing at him to join them for dinner before Jaemin could flip out.

Donghyuck looked back at Mark, who hadn't removed his stare from the television screen.

"Okay," Donghyuck nodded solemnly. "Then I'll prove you wrong."

  
  
  
  
  


Jisung wiggled under the blankets, his toes curled tight and hands clasped to the silk. He couldn't sleep, not even when no poltergeist crept into his room and no unnecessary noises were made, though Renjun sitting beside him with his head resting on his lap was helping. Renjun may be stern and hostile, but he was still one of the nicest older brothers Jisung had ever met.

"I don't want to fall asleep." Jisung quivered. "I'm scared."

Renjun combed his hair with his bare fingers.

"Shh, Injunnie hyung is here, you shall be fine."

"I can't sleep without Lele. Why can't I sleep in the clinic?"

"The clinic is the best place for poltergeists to make a mess out of. Shelves, glass, windows, beds, medicines, bottles, the sinks– everything in there will be taken into an advantage by them if they smell consciousness in that room, and that consciousness is yours if you try to sleep there."

"But I can't sleep with Lele by my side," Jisung said. "He'd be spooning me right now if he's not dead."

"He's not dead."

"Temporarily dead, I know. Just... When will he wake up?"

"Tomorrow morning, hopefully."

Renjun waited for a few more minutes till Jisung was motionless, completely, before it occurred to him that the teen had fallen asleep by mere luck. Renjun tried to get out of bed gently without waking the younger boy up, getting his head off his lap then letting him lay down comfortably on the pillows. He smiled fondly at the sight of Jisung sleeping. It only happens once in a while. He almost found it hard to tear his eyes away from him, before remembering he too himself had to sleep or kill (being killed wasn't one of his options).

On his way out, he hummed a tune, one that sounded like a mother's lullaby, turning the lights off as he closed the doors with the smile still on his face. That smile was soon wiped off when he sensed someone else's presence in the corridor. As dim as it was, Renjun couldn't see anyone around.

"Hello? Jaemin?" He called out. "Jeno? Is anybody out there?"

A gust of wind came from behind, urging Renjun to turn around and check if someone was with him. He sauntered towards the bedroom next to Jisung's, curiosity increasing once he discerned the doors left open. He took a peek inside the room, the wall lamps attached to the walls inside helping him see. No one was there.

And yet Renjun couldn't help but grow suspicious when the curtains danced to the wind, and someone as once human as him should be at least five meters within his vicinage. If anybody was to ask how, he just knew. Sixth sense, he'd say.

"Donghyuck? Is that you?" It was getting colder, and not even a poltergeist can control the temperature in a room. It was dumb of Renjun to forget about wearing a wool jacket on top of his floral robes tonight. He admitted that to himself, apparently. "Uh, hello? At least answer me?"

Nothing but the cold air answered him. Undeniably annoyed, Renjun decided to take it out, hating the fact that he let something as ridiculous as the current situation get into his nerves.

"I swear to God! If this is a prank I will pick up my ax and pulverize you both–"

A metal bat swung from behind him, deforming a part of his skull. Blood flowed out of his scalp as the thick liquid tinted strands of his hair. Renjun didn't get a chance to keep his eyes open for long to see who did it because of his mushed brain at the moment, a hole in between his hair manifesting itself as the weapon's product.

It hurt. Metal really does nothing but sustain damage.

  
  
  
  
  


It was dingy in the basement. Mark coached Donghyuck to sit on the one-man couch across him, a body separating them. It made him feel uneasy.

Donghyuck avoided looking at the floor. Renjun laid there, and Donghyuck didn't want to know if he was dead or not.

"Go ahead," Mark gestured. "Take a slice. You will love how it feels to peel someone's flesh off."

Mark spoke like they were about to have teatime with cake. Donghyuck tightened his grip around the table knife, blood oozing through the cut of his palm. The stench of it was sickeningly dry, and Donghyuck couldn't imagine how the sweet, metallic scent would taste in his mouth.

"You said I should trust no one," Donghyuck said. "Am I supposed to trust you?"

"It's either you walk out of that door and give yourself into those spirits, or you stay here alive and feed yourself."

As Mark gently overturned the body, Donghyuck was certain there was only one thing he learned that night.

Blood is really warm. Like drinking hot chocolate, except with more screams of guilt recurring in his head.

  
  
  
  
  


Jeno's legs began to shake like a leaf.

On the other side of the castle, on the east tower, Jeno ran and ran. He wasn't alone, to think positively, as Jaemin happened to tag along, holding him back by the collar from tripping down the stairs and end up killing himself in the worst way possible.

Until Jeno couldn't handle it anymore. His mind was possessed, and the stitches in his legs from being chomped on were one inch close to being torn apart. Jaemin reluctantly cursing under his breath made everything worse.

"Shut up!" Jeno yelled, probably for the first time, at Jaemin. "Shut your mouth! Your fucking voice is overlapping with the fucking voices in my fucking head!"

"Woah, calm down," Jaemin said. "The poltergeists are after us. The least we can do is outrun them."

"You have no idea how much it hurts."

"Let's find a way, yeah?"

Jeno gave him a look of agony.

"No, thank you."

In a blink of an eye, Jeno was gone. He had crashed through the glass windows without havering, swift and nimble that he avoided Jaemin's hand by chance, his weight light for once. He had felt the most alive when in the air, falling to his demise, the thirst for survival interweaved with the thirst for death.

His body was reposed flat on the turf. The sight of it alone caused Jaemin palpitations.

"Shit!" Jaemin ran his fingers through his hair in distress as he fell down the few steps of the stairs, unable to hold onto something. "Shit, shit, fucking shit."

A sound was heard from the darkness further down, sounding more like a harrowing cry the more Jaemin processed it in his brain. Sweating, he scrambled back to his feet and faced the dark at the bottom.

"Fuck you! I won't forgive you for taking control of the frailest mind in this castle, and I won't forget! I will take those words to my grave, so go ahead and annoy me to death. But you don't deserve me. You killed my friend! You won't lay a hand on me tonight, and not until Jeno decides for you to do so!"

After that, silence filled the air. All laid still and hushed until the figure at the foot of the stairs vanished.

Jaemin could hear the grandfather clock ticking from five stories high. Ticking, ticking, ticking, as he came back down untouched.

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck wobbled out of the basement, his white satin robes caked in blood. The thoughts in his head were spiraling, from how he might've murdered Mark, Renjun's flesh digested in his stomach, how he felt disgusted by himself, and yet his body wouldn't allow him to retch up everything he'd eaten that night.

Donghyuck still found it all barbarously strange. Such thoughts circulated around his head. Why would heaven and hell allow diabolical misdemeanors to happen in purgatory, a place for cleansing one's self and deciding a path for an afterlife? He sighed, palming his sweating forehead, not giving a damn anymore about how blood was splattered on his face like paint.

Walking past the lobby whilst he left a trail of blood dripping down his ankles on the puritanical floor, the tesselation art of gold-plated and dignified floral patterns are in for rusting of dried blood soon. Donghyuck's mind continued to spiral.

_So we don't remember who we were in our past lives, yet we remember our own names._ Yes. He wasn't as oblivious as others thought he was. _Bit by bit do we remember a highlight of our lives… Most especially how we died_.

Donghyuck did think that was where it becomes a major, unavoidable challenge. They can only see these memories in their dreams, dreams they can only visit in their subconsciousness. And yet it was difficult for slumber to visit them when they need it the most, as the unbridled paranoia of being disturbed by hysteric poltergeists is there to eat them alive.

He was pulled out of his own world the moment he felt soil beneath his bare feet, and he hadn't even fathomed that he had been walking on barefoot since then. The cold moisture of the grass woke him up from his semi-consciousness, basking in the morning breeze as the rising sun peeked through the substratum of the trees. It didn't take Donghyuck long to catch sight of a body lying by a ground floor window at the side, a few meters away from the porch. He suppressed a pant and traipsed towards the body.

Donghyuck jerked back when the body convulsed before springing up. Donghyuck watched until the person was back on his feet, fastening his pace as soon as he recognized the face.

It was Jeno, his hair disheveled and striped with leaves as so was his soiled, wrinkled shirt that was frayed on the ends. He turned to Donghyuck upon hearing his feet scraping against the edges of the leaves, the latter numb to the bugs that leeched onto his skin. He was more concerned about the friend standing before him like a ragdoll.

"What did you do?" Exasperated sighs tore from his lungs. "Who killed you?"

"Mm, did I die?" Jeno glanced at the sun. "Oh, thank god. It's daytime again."

"What _did_ you do?"

"I'm guessing... Jumped out and killed myself. I couldn't handle all the poltergeists screaming inside my head, so I gave up surviving the night."

"Jumped off what?"

Jeno gazed upwards. Donghyuck followed his line of sight. He drew in his breath, looking at Jeno with detestation.

"You jumped off the fourth floor?!"

"Sometimes, Hyuck, the best option is to play dead."

"You weren't even playing dead. You _were_ dead!"

"Well, at least I survived."

"You're insane."

"I mean, who among us isn't?"

Donghyuck was not surprised when Jeno didn't ask him about his robes. He never did.

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck entered the dining room newly showered as Jaemin waltzed around to place splendid dishes on the table. Donghyuck sat beside Renjun, and he didn't realize who the person was until he felt those dull eyes drilling into him, his shoulders beginning to stiff and his naked heels erect against the floor.

Donghyuck awkwardly glanced at him, sipping on a lemon juice to ease his upset stomach.

"Do you have something to say to me?"

Renjun cleared his throat and twiddled with his fingers. "You know, you could've just told me you wanted to feed on me instead of giving me anxiety."

"Oh– that– well, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

"No, it's okay, just don't do it again without my permission," Renjun winked at him. "Did I taste good?"

Donghyuck almost choked on his juice. He maintained his composure.

"To be honest? Yes. And I'm glad you're alive."

"Of course, resurrection is always on our options."

"Did Hyuckie eat you last night?" Jaemin butted in. "What did he taste like?"

"Bitter, but I like that kind of bitter."

"Hm. That makes sense! Injun is bitter all the time."

"Yeah, and Jaemin is too sweet if you're to eat him, just a warning," Renjun said. "He's starchy too. His blood is high on sugar level, so be careful if you don't want to get a sweet tooth."

"Stop, I'm not that sweet!"

"You are lethally sweet, you dipshit."

The three of them laughed about it together, their laughter ringing in the air like a never forgotten song. Jaemin maundered back to the kitchen to fetch more of his cookery. While on it, Renjun and Donghyuck bonded over sarcasm, poking fun of Mark and Jaemin, terrible movies, and forming conspiracy theories about purgatory and the afterlife.

By the time Jaemin was back from the kitchen, another family member stepped into the dining room, also newly showered, wearing nothing but a bathrobe, his damp hair pushed back. Renjun and Donghyuck didn't stop prattling, though the latter looked briefly from Jaemin to the person that sat across Renjun.

Renjun ignored both their presences, still ranting to Donghyuck about his manual to what-ifs on the subject of escaping purgatory. On the other hand, Donghyuck watched as Jaemin briskly placed down a platter of pancakes on the table before running to a resuscitated Jeno, even checking his temperature knowing he had to endure the cold from being dead out in the night.

"Thank god you are alive," Jaemin sighed in relief. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Anywhere, Jen?"

"No, not at all. I just rose from the dead like nothing happened."

"Okay, that’s good to hear. But did you really have to give me a heart attack when you jumped out the window? You left me alone! You should've dragged me down along with you!"

"I panicked, okay? The poltergeists got the best of my mind and I couldn't handle everything at the same time. I just– I only want you to forgive me."

Donghyuck removed his stare at the bickering partners and whispered to Renjun, "do they normally fight like that all the time?"

"Minus the concern and without square punches, yes."

"I can forgive you right now," Jaemin replied. "But only if you promise me never to do it again. If you die, I die too. Do you even have any idea how I had to try and sleep in our bed chamber when the bed kept rocking back and forth? I couldn't sleep!"

"Because you drank too much coffee, and that's not my fault!"

"I drink coffee because I'm stressed about you all the time!"

"Well maybe if you didn't think about me all the time you wouldn't drink all those espresso shots!"

"You know what? I smell something burning. Is that your head exploding with fire?"

"No, not at all, I think that's you just stinking."

"I showered already like you did, there's no way I'd stink!"

Donghyuck slowly turned to Renjun, eyes still glued to the live sitcom in front of them, "okay, are they originally this dumb or–"

"OH MY GOD," Renjun slammed his hands on the table and caused Donghyuck to flinch back in surprise, catching the two's attention. "THE BATTER IS ON FIRE, YOU JERKS!"

The live sitcom Donghyuck expected to last longer than twenty minutes had ended by the time Jaemin repetitively cursed to himself, hoping by the name of dead bodies that none of the pancakes were burnt just yet. Renjun was left to comfort Jeno to make him feel better, and as if on cue, Mark was next to enter the dining room with lion-customed slippers on, his baggy white shirt holding his slim figure hostage. He was wearing the same flannel pajama the night before, yet even with the justness of Donghyuck's vision does he spot not a single drop of blood.

Donghyuck got up and followed Mark to the far end of the long table, where Mark preferred to eat at. Donghyuck sat beside him, his hand making its way to Mark's.

"I'm sorry Mark, I'm really sorry. I got scared."

"No, it's fine. You did nothing wrong."

"Just tell me if you're bothered by it, that I'm a coward, and I'll gladly change myself for you–"

"Seriously, 'Hyuck, I already said it's fine. You have nothing to be sorry for."

Donghyuck was not stunned by Mark’s meekness evident in his intonation, but because of the nickname. It was the first time Mark had ever called him that, and the way he was smiling at him with soft dimples in view only effectuated Donghyuck’s blood to rise up his cheeks.

"O-Okay," he stammered, pulling back his own hand. "Thank you."

Mark shifted his attention to the door and so did Renjun and Jeno. Donghyuck turned around in curiosity, his jaw-dropping upon seeing Jisung. And Chenle.

Chenle, who was expected to be asleep still, was with Jisung, who had a dumb grin on his face desisting from cracking up at their priceless looks on their faces.

"Lele," Jeno heaved. "You're awake."

"You're awake!" Donghyuck repeated, tone frolicsome. "He's awake! Lele is awake!"

"What?" Jaemin peeped through the kitchen door. "Did I hear that right?"

"He's alright now," Renjun grinned from ear to ear, guiding Chenle to sit down on his designated seat. "Hale and hearty too."

"Oh, you guys," Chenle blushed, chortling. "I'm flattered."

"That's great!" Jaemin acclaimed, cavorting in with the last few plates of pancakes and sliced, fresh fruits as their desserts. "Renjun, help me out here and blend orange juices for us to toast to!"

"Welcome back," Renjun patted Chenle on the back before moseying towards the kitchen.

Jaemin squealed, clapping like a seal.

"This calls for a celebration! Mark, and Jen', you two are going to help me prepare a feast for everyone. You too, 'Hyuckie, you can help if you want."

"Of course, it's my pleasure."

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck was in charge of dessert. He had been on the trifle for nearly two hours and was nowhere finished, so he decided to take a break and strolled towards the fridge.

Donghyuck was also craving soda, knowing damn well there wasn't a can of his desired drink stored away in the fridge. He was just going to get more cartons of milk.

Opening the appliance with half-lidded eyes, the first thing he laid his sight on was the row of drinks arranged beneath the egg tray.

_Wait._ He froze. _What the hell?_

He lurched back in surprise, falling flat on his back. Maybe not a can of soda, but six bottles of cola sitting right there in plain sight. He thought back to what Jisung said to him on his first day, regretting having repudiated Jisung's statement when it was true all along. 

"Wow."

He shrugged off his shoulders and forgot about the soda, grabbing cartons of milk. The moment he closed the door, he was met with a hazy vision, which he tried to stop by mildly pressing his eyes with his bare palms after putting down the cartons on the table.

"I'm so sleepy," He murmured to himself. He rued not getting enough sleep last night. Or maybe he didn't get any sleep at all if not to count his sentience during the time he was not himself and eating a fellow soul. "I should take a nap later."

Mark just so happened to pass by with a plate of Chocolate Chip cookies and hear his words.

"Trust me, you wouldn't want to do that."

"Why?"

Mark laughed dryly.

"None of us should sleep during the daytime, Hyuck."

  
  
  
  
  


Renjun trod upstairs past the kitchen pantry till he stood on the terrace as the last family member to arrive at the lunch table. He breathed in the outdoor air which he might as well specify as an autumn breeze, walking towards the buffet where everybody was already assembled.

From that distance, Renjun could tell extravagant dishes like Cheesy Bacon Brussels Sprouts, Roasted Tomato soup, White Wine, Rosemary gravy, and more by their aromatic scent, served on the fanciest plates they could find thanks to the cooking and setting team's endeavors to welcome Chenle in the most exceptional way possible. They were making more endearing memories as a family, to say the least.

Renjun hadn't seen the actual dishes yet since Mark and Jeno were in the way, blocking Renjun's view of the feast laid on the oakwood table, so he shoved them apart and yelled, "move! I'm dead!"

Renjun was barely piqued by the grand meals prepared for lunch resting atop the table, though almost falling for it when the mixed fragrance of grilled pork chop and baked mac and cheese hit his nose. He plunked a hardbound book next to his plate. All eyes fell on him as Chenle swallowed a spoonful of his corn salad.

"About time you all pay attention," he said, twirling his carbonara on the plate. "So I was reading this book I got from the library earlier, and I think I found a way to keep the poltergeists away."

"Really?"

"Oooh, interesting!"

"Yeah. It's a poem and I decoded it."

"Smart. Tell us everything."

"It says 'youngest of youngsters, fleshiest of flesh, the bright red seeping, into the darkest of dark.' The rest of the poem drove me crazy, so they don't matter," Renjun swatted a hand, almost drunkenly. "It means we have to restrain the youngest of us in the middle of the castle."

Jisung set his wine glass of milk down. "What?"

"Okay," Jeno drawled. "But why?"

Renjun chuckled. "Poltergeists can't hurt children because they're children too, my friend. Chenle and Jisung are the only ones among us who died when they weren't twenty years old yet, but Jisung is way younger."

"Whoo!" Chenle cheered. "I'm lucky and free!"

At first, Donghyuck didn't understand the joy in Chenle's sparkling skin, then remembered that Jaemin might've somehow mentioned to him in the lounge room last night about Chenle dying a few days before his twentieth birthday, which was both a fortunate and an unfortunate event, whilst they were rating comedy sitcoms on the nearly broken television.

"Okay, no talking about poltergeists today," Jaemin got up from his seat, his wine glass of cola gripped by his slim fingers. "I'd like to make a toast."

"With soda?" Jeno mocked. "Why couldn't we get wine for once today?"

Jaemin rolled his eyes, pettily placing a hand holding a spoon on his hip.

"Do you want to vomit or not?"

"... No?"

"Exactly. Now let us toast."

"To what?"

Jaemin lifted his glass.

"To Chenle and this family."

The rest mimicked his gesture.

"To Chenle and this family!"

  
  
  
  
  


"Our plan will only work if they sympathize with Jisung." Said Jaemin as he tied Jisung to a chair, eloquently putting a blindfold on him.

"Please, I'd be talking to literal spirits." Jisung hissed. "If anything, I'll only tell them to not hurt me because I care more about myself."

"Bla bla bla, you're still a poltergeist repellent no matter what you do," Renjun wryly smiled at the younger. "You'll get a reward for your service soon. Want me to give you bagels any time you want it?"

"Stop babying me. I'm probably an adult now if a year has passed in that world."

"Oh, you mean Earth? Nah, 'Sungie, your age when you died stays the same here. Just like I'd be twenty-one forever."

"I'm twenty-one too and not complaining."

"Aw," Chenle pouted. "I should've died after my twentieth birthday passed."

In the meantime, Donghyuck was flat out lying on the couch in the lounge like an unmoving corpse. Mark tossed him a bag of potato chips Donghyuck had specifically requested to bring to him as a supper meal, catching it with both hands. Mark flopped down on the beanbag, the both of them still hearing echoes of the others' age-centered talk in the lobby.

"At what age did you die?" Mark inquired, popping a marshmallow into his mouth. He read the nutrient facts on the bag out of boredom rather than checking out Donghyuck's striking pores manifested into view by candle lights. "You should've known by now at what age you died with all those dreams you've had at nights."

When the only answer Mark got was the crunching sound of chips being ground by canine teeth, he swallowed another marshmallow. "I'll go first. I died at twenty-two."

"Twenty-one, just like those three. I died young, didn't I?"

"Oh."

Why do you ask?"

"Just got curious. Does it bother you?"

"No, not at all."

The gentle hum of the radio sitting atop the coffee table filled the air, the French literature books abandoned on the untouched shelves. Donghyuck wished the walls were lined by fairy lights instead of being unadorned, ordinary, and just walls. The lounge room looked boring, shaggy, and prosaic, but everything about the world, history, classic literature, outdated music, and such downright imbued and kept the room alive with vast knowledge.

And all those talks he had with these new people, whether short or long, both in the past and future, were bound to stay at the back of mind for a long time before they turn into another impractical recollection.

Donghyuck let out a sigh. "Do you believe in magic?"

"I don't know what to believe anymore."

"Really? At least tell me you have beliefs."

"Not beliefs," Mark's simper was starting to get conspicuous. "But just belief."

"Pardon?"

"I only have one belief, if that's the answer you're looking for."

Anything was better than zero beliefs. At least that persisted in being what Donghyuck was certain of and Mark could guarantee.

“Okay. One belief.”

  
  
  
  
  


The moment Donghyuck opened his eyes, he saw something… Unnatural.

It was freezing and he was wearing a parka, yet he felt like burning up and throwing up until there was nothing left of him. The windows were open, the polished, wooden floor was smeared with a pool of red, and his hands were dipped in blood.

There were two bodies lying down on the floor as if they've been attacked or threatened with a knife, the wounds on their skin cut deep as the blood was blotted up by their woolen sweaters.

Donghyuck recognized the bodies. Too enervated to process what was happening, he nervously peered around. He perceived a knife that sat by his shoes, the tip of its blade caked with blood.

He didn't realize he had been crying in his left eye, tear by tear as the energy left in him was continuously being drained. As if by instinct, he unearthed his mobile phone from the back pocket of his pants, fumbling on the dial pad to call 119 and request for police and hospital emergency.

His whole world was crashing down, _everything_ was crashing down at the lone, grisly sight presented to him, and he took his spleen out in the form of heavy breaths, running his weary fingers through the bleached strands of his hair. He was too exhausted to scream, or bawl his eyes out, or mourn his loss, and he was just bent there on his feet barely supporting his upper body. He cared no more if blood was on his hair, his hands, his clothes– _everywhere_ , everything tainted with evidence that could be used against him.

"Sir?" A voice called from the other side of the door. "Open up sir, the police are here."

More voices followed along with a series of knocks, but every one of them was fading away like piano keys underwater. Donghyuck covered his ears. Everything was overwhelming, and it won’t stop, _fuck_ , his breath pattern ragged, everything, and among everything still did he manage to pick up a familiar voice outside their unit. _Fucking fuck_.

"Hyuckie! Are you in there?"

Donghyuck paused. He stared at the door. He was trying to comprehend the situation he couldn't get ahold of, perturbed by the same voices over and over again.

"Hyuck, I'm here! Open up!"

Donghyuck walked towards the door. He didn't say anything.

"Hyuck! Hurry up! Are you having a panic attack?"

He snatched their family's emergency bat stored away behind the door, ready to attack just in case. He was a mess, a damned, bloody mess and he was aware of it just as his reflection in the mirror confirmed it for his eyes to see.

"'Duckie!" The same voice called once more. "'Duck, Earth to 'Duckie!"

Debilitated, Donghyuck's vision became blurry. His grip on the bat loosened. He was so close to rotating the knob and opening the door, so, so close, yet his body insisted otherwise.

He fainted. His head collided with the floor, resulting in a 'thud' sound. The ceiling greeted him the same way death did, except this time, the impact of his fall caused no life-threatening harm to his wellbeing. The last thing he heard before he fluttered his sunken eyes to snooze was the ceaseless, discordant sound of metal inserted into their apartment’s lock.

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck woke up in terror. He caught his breath before taking notice of the three pairs of eyes shoved on his face.

"Finally," Renjun respired. "God, Donghyuck. What have you done?"

Donghyuck blinked twice.

"What did I do?"

"You slept at 4 pm, you idiot," Jaemin said. "It's only 5 pm. Thank heaven and hell you only slept for an hour and your daydream ended where it should've."

"Yeah, or your daydream could've gotten any worse," Jeno curled his upper lip. "Was it bad?"

"Was it _that_ bad?"

"Or indescribably bad?"

"Hey, don’t scare the poor boy," Jeno chided. "He's still in shock."

"Uh, why did I dream of that?" Donghyuck asked, ignoring their question. "What just happened?"

"You fell asleep in the lounge. Mark tried to keep you awake and even tried to wake you up, but we all figured you're a deep sleeper."

"Never sleep again during the day, 'Duck." Renjun wagged a finger. "It's a big no-no for purgatory people like us."

Being the nosy guy he is, Jaemin questioned the one thing he shouldn't have. "What did you dream ab– ow!"

Jeno had kicked him on the shin. Donghyuck shook his head down.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Understandable." Jeno fondly smiled at him. "What do you want for dinner? We can prep your comfort food for you."

"Classic Lasagna, please."

"That's all? Let us make as much as you want if you want more. It's the best we can do for you."

Donghyuck took a deep breath, lying back down to stare at the ceiling.

"Kimchi stew. Pork belly meat. And Margarita."

  
  
  
  
  


The night passed by on a whim. Jaemin was the first to get up and prepare breakfast at 5, followed by Chenle, who made ramen for himself as pre-breakfast.

It didn't take long for the sun to rise, the whole family called to dine. As capacious dishes were being passed around the table, Renjun, last to wake up, came in looking more energetic than before, his skin clear as a sky with no clouds. He slung an arm around Jisung from behind, laughing so chaffingly with fake tears it offended the younger.

"Did you say you won't protect us and would rather protect yourself? Then why did I have the beauty sleep I never had before?"

Jisung scrunched his nose in disrelish, avoiding Renjun while he tried to focus on placing more servings of rice onto his plate.

"That's right!" Chenle cackled. "I didn't hear any crunching sounds from under my bed!"

"And I was able to lucid dream," Renjun smirked on his way to his own seat. "It was great, I'll tell you that. I saw my mom's face. She was pretty. She looked even prettier when she gave me a Moomin plushie as a present."

"I lucid dreamt too," Jeno mentioned, guzzling his seaweed soup. "And I just found out that I was the most popular guy in school."

"As if. Maybe you were the teacher's pet and you were just mistaken."

"You're the one who's mistaken. Everybody loved me. I was loved by everybody. There was even a 'Lee Jeno fanclub' formed."

Laughter erupted on the table. Even Donghyuck found himself trying not to wheeze with a bite of chocolate waffle in his mouth.

"I'm not joking!" Jeno argued. "Seriously, I'm not joking. You have to believe me. I mean, with a face like this and a smile like no other, who wouldn't like me?" 

Mark tittered. "Then why did you kill yourself?"

"Because of people's expectations, silly!"

Renjun gawked. "So you committed suicide because of pressure?"

"Yeah, exactly, that's the one!"

"Great," Renjun released his grip on his fork, standing up to reach out to Jeno on the other table as he offered a high five. "'Cause me too."

"Cool," Jeno extended his hand and returned the casual gesture. "I'm not alone."

"You're both losers," Jisung derided. "Being pressured by peers is nothing compared to being roped into an intentional murder then running away to a deserted town with a best friend who, like you didn't bring water, and somewhere in the way, I thought maybe it was the best way I could kill myself to escape the consequences. Like hey, I'd rather die than have my parents be ashamed of a psychopath son like me and getting arrested."

Donghyuck squinted. Jisung never looked like someone who would die of dehydration. He looked like nothing but an innocent teen who would be a voluntary member of a mafia gang, so Donghyuck always thought he'd die of anything relating to firearms or drugs, just not street brawls.

"Oh," Renjun rolled his eyes. "You should've been charged with the death penalty even when you were already dead."

"Thank god I didn't. I don't like dying by the hands of the law."

"Sucks to be you, but also sucks to be me. I was the heir to my father's company when all I wanted to do was move to France, paint in the middle of the streets, and start my own art business."

"But have you tried being blackmailed by someone into murdering a guy whose only wish was not to get deported back to North Korea? I didn't want to do it, but I had no choice."

"Okay, okay, no one's comparing their past struggles and reasons for suicide here, alright?" Jaemin rambled. "And 'Sungie sweetie, we'd appreciate it if you calm down–"

"Not to mention, Renjun hyung, you're very annoying."

"I'm annoying? Really? You should sleep in a coffin tonight."

"Hey now," Jeno gesticulated for Renjun to sit back down. "That's something you shouldn't be saying to a toddler."

"And what he said isn't something he should say to his hyung!"

The banter went on across the dining table. In the meantime, Mark and Donghyuck were the only ones unwilling to encourage anyone involved in the fight as if the only thing important to them was finishing their breakfast.

The older spoke first, his morning voice husky with a spoor of grilled salmon.

"Did you dream well?"

"Yeah," was Donghyuck's response. "I dreamt well."

"Good to hear."

There was nothing much to share in Donghyuck's opinion. All he dreamt about was standing outside an elementary school, waiting for his younger siblings to fetch them home. When they showed up, Donghyuck treated them on the way home and bought them smoothies of their favorite flavors. The memory was so heartfelt Donghyuck started doubting about himself, about who he was as a former brother to people he shared the same blood with.

"What about you?"

"My dream was okay. Not too good, but not too bad either."

"Oh. I'm happy for you."

Donghyuck decided to keep it to himself for a little longer. Just a little bit longer.

  
  
  
  
  


Lunch was over before long. The two of them were in the library, their heads buried in books drifting away from reality. Donghyuck only came along because he had nothing better to do, and more importantly, he had had been wanting to tell Mark about the direness of what his subconsciousness had uncovered. 

Mark skimmed the justified paragraphs in the book about matriarchal societies compared to Donghyuck, who barely flipped his own book to the next page of Introduction to Psychology. He'd randomly pick out a book he found on the reference section with an intriguing font on its spine and thereafter ascertained it to be about the controversy in psychological studies, to which his interest wasn't even piqued in.

(Or maybe Donghyuck just wanted to look smart in front of Mark. He hadn't realized it sooner, but Mark was a damn nerd. And a bookworm too.)

"Are you really studying even when you're dead?"

"What? Knowledge is power, you know," Mark defended. "I want to learn again about the world we came from. Its history is entertaining."

"Yeah, wait till you learn about French Revolution."

"I already did. But how did you know that?"

Donghyuck slid back his psychology crash course textbook, revealing another book underneath.

"Ta-da."

"Did you really learn or you just looked at a picture of a guillotine and stopped reading?"

"I may or may have not done that."

They dissolved into laughter. Mark went back to his reading, his reading glasses still perched up the tip of his nose. Donghyuck laid his head down on the table on top of his stack of books stultifyingly. He played some arbitrary rhythm in his head, expressing its flow by tapping his fingers against the surface of the table. He was really, really bored, his impatience eating him out.

"Mark," Donghyuck swallowed a lump. "I need to tell you something."

"Yeah?"

"Uh, about yesterday, when I fell asleep during the day."

"Ah, that. I'm really sorry, we tried our best to wake you up."

"It's not about you guys trying to wake me up, although I too am really sorry about it. It's about how I didn't know daydreams could be that bad for us until now."

"Oh," Mark said. "What about it?"

"I figured I can't keep it to myself for long. It was a really bad dream, a nightmare, in precise terms, and you're the only one I trust enough to tell you about it. I don't know why– you just, uh, sound trustworthy, to be honest."

"Good to know that. Tell me about it then."

"Promise not to tell anyone?"

Mark licked his lips, nodding. He closed his book and faced Donghyuck, looking him straight in the eyes.

"I promise."

Donghyuck took a long, deep breath. This was his chance. He had someone to trust, someone who he had known for two weeks, it seemed so. Yet more silenced seconds passed by.

"Hyuck?" Mark called. "I'm really glad that you are telling me this, so I want you to know that you're not in this alone."

When Donghyuck didn't reply, Mark continued to talk in a way that would make the younger feel better.

"All of us had inevitably fallen asleep during the day. It's completely normal. If you don't want to tell me right now, I'm fine with it, totally. We can wait until you're ready."

"No," Donghyuck shook his head. "I'm ready."

Donghyuck avoided glancing at Mark, instead bobbed his head down to stare at the floor and admire the ceramic tiles. He respired, heaving in an attempt to find the courage and say proper words.

"I think I killed my siblings."

Mark's lips remained sealed, unmoving. Donghyuck held back his tears and leaned forward for support, Mark taking him into his arms as he embraced him with his warmth and god, bless all the dear children, that perfumed scent clinging to his shirt like a parasite. So it wasn’t his lemon-scented shampoo this time.

"I killed my siblings, Mark."

A sob. A guttural, chopped cry.

"Shh," Mark rested his chin on Donghyuck's head, rubbing circles of comfort on his back. He combed his fingers through the younger's hazel locks. "You'll be fine. You won't be here if you're not."

"I-I killed them," Donghyuck wailed. "I killed them."

"Even if you did, it doesn't matter now. You're doing well, Donghyuck, keep your chin up."

They stayed like that for an hour, maybe more, there among the reading section of the library, the smell of old books diffused in the air. Neither dared to bear demurrals.

  
  
  
  
  


A week flew by.

And within those weeks, nothing quite bizarre occurred, not even at nights, so they declared Jisung as a successful experiment. Graphic dreams came and went. Not a single dreamless sleep they had, like the evocative one Donghyuck had at the moment.

Donghyuck observed his surroundings. He was standing in the middle of nowhere. It seemed to be a street somewhere in the city, and the signs on the poles with the street names on it were barely helping him.

Voices overlapped in his head. His gaze shifted from the skyscrapers that reached the skies to the people promenading past him. He looked at the glass wall behind him. Instead of admiring the well-tailored clothes on the store’s mannequins, he noticed something peculiar about himself. He was wearing hospital robes, a bandage wrapped around his head, and he couldn't feel his arm.

Now, he didn't know how he ended up there and what he was supposed to do, but he continued to walk anyway. Nobody looked at him just as others looked at some people. Donghyuck may not be quick-witted, but he knew something was up, either with him or the ambience of the place.

Fortunately for him, he was invisible just as much as any other people wandering in the middle of the city were.

Donghyuck walked with nowhere to go. He looked for signs that could guide him but to no avail. He somehow bumped into a crowd of people whose attention was fixated on somewhere above, their phones out either up or tucked to their ears, so he followed their line of vision.

Then he saw it. The thing he shouldn't have seen.

He saw a boy jump off a rooftop.

  
  
  
  
  


There was a treehouse near the graveyard. Its balcony could give you a good, angled view of the graveyard from above. Donghyuck overheard Mark tell Jeno he would relax there after lunch as they were raking the autumn leaves outside, so he decided to tag along, curious of how it feels like to be up there.

He wasn't expecting them to have company. At least that company was not with them up in the treehouse.

As Mark was reading his daytime book while leaning on the railing of nailed branches, Donghyuck peered below to see Renjun and Jaemin sitting between two tombstones. For some reason, they hadn't seen him and Mark up there yet. Donghyuck morphed his face into that of disgust at what they did next.

"Making out in the graveyard?" Donghyuck raised an eyebrow. "Jaemin's such a sap."

"He really is. He two-times Renjun and Jeno sometimes."

“It’s not like I’m blind to his senseless actions. I once caught him mix a substance into their drinks. Lele later told me it was crushed sleeping pills. Why would he do that?”

“The poltergeists get into Jeno’s head from time to time, while Renjun has insomnia.”

“Oh. So Jaemin is caring after all, huh?”

“The whole world says so.”

"By the way, Jaemin... Why is he always at the graveyard? The way I see it, he has this weird kind of attachment towards graves no matter how mucky the ground is."

"Ah," Mark paused. "He did say that he was buried alive in one of his memories."

"Is that really how he killed himself?"

"No. He said he drowned himself and somehow he survived last minute. Besides, the attempt of killing himself through drowning was still a sin, so he's here with us."

"Oh god," Donghyuck placed a hand on his chest, knowing full well he was a dead man with no pulse. "That's... Oh god, I feel so sorry for him. Why would he do that?"

Mark settled his book down to meet his eyes. "Why would he do what?"

"Attempting suicide. Now that I know what Renjun, Jeno, and Jisung's reasons were for killing themselves, I still don't know what Jaemin's is."

"Physical abuse."

"What?"

"How would you feel if your mother abandoned you because you were physically handicapped, and you're left with a drunkard father?" Mark asked. "Oh, by the way, your father was the one who made you physically handicapped. It happened when you were in the car with him on the way from school, and he was recklessly driving under influence."

Donghyuck tried to wrap his head around what Mark had just said.

"... What?"

"Jaemin couldn't walk," Mark perched his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "And if you'll look closely, he has a scar on his scalp. Jeno was the first to point it out."

"Well, not to be nosy, but how did he get that scar?"

"He got hit by a wine bottle. Crazy, I know."

"On the head?"

"On the head."

"Shit," Donghyuck cursed. "Okay, I would've done the same if I were him."

"You mean suicide? Yeah, me too." Mark chimed. "I'm glad for Jaemin though. He's happy here, he can walk, and he loves two people that love him back. There is no way on God's Earth he'll sit again on a wheelchair and roll until he falls off a cliff."

"And drown himself, then we wait for his body to wash up on the shore the next morning? No, I wouldn't allow that." Donghyuck boldly stated. "Speaking of these dreadful memories about death, I'm just going to be straightforward. I had a dream where I killed you."

Mark remained nonchalant, looking at Donghyuck with the most ingenuous expression.

"Killed me how?"

"I, uh, pushed you off the castle's highest tower."

Mark blanked out for a second. Then he chuckled.

"Nonsense. We can't kill anyone here. We can only kill ourselves when the killing method is the same method we used to kill ourselves in our past lives. Besides, if you pushed me off that tower, I'd be fit as a fiddle the next day."

Donghyuck dissolved into laughter.

"I was kidding," he said. "I wouldn't do that to you."

"Oh! That was funny. You got me there."

Mark's laughter faded. He looked Donghyuck in the eyes, wary.

"Mark," Donghyuck held his hand, his thumb caressing his skin. "Did you die that way?"

Mark didn't say anything.

"Did you commit suicide that way?"

He remained silent. He couldn't find the right words to say, the right sentences to form, the letters strewn across his mind. He couldn't. He was fretful, internally so, that his pupils dilated and he started sweating. Donghyuck patted him on the shoulder.

"It's okay if you don't tell me anything, but I want you to trust me. Just like how I trusted you and still do."

Mark licked his lips, agitated.

"You know, every day, my head keeps telling me to jump out of the window. Until you came."

"May I ask why?"

"Even if you asked, I wouldn't know what to answer."

"Huh," Donghyuck blinked. "And why is that?"

"Because I don't know the answer. Yet."

  
  
  
  
  


Time for another hell night was what the clock tried to say. It was time, everybody wanted to scream, for another goddamned hell night.

While they do not know where the others were, especially the inseparable three, Mark and Donghyuck were lying down flat on the rose garden behind the castle, not caring anymore if the back of their clothes were dirtied by the moist, infected soil.

"Is not giving us stars to gaze at one of God's punishments?"

"I think so."

"Wow," Donghyuck stifled a pitiful laugh. "That's so cruel."

Donghyuck had seen the garden about six stories from above every time he peered out the window next to their bed, but he had never stepped on it until now. Tonight was his first time, and Mark just happened to be the first person to walk him there and accompany him.

"So if poltergeists can't get out of the house, it's safe for us to be here in this garden?"

"Yes, but also no."

"Then why haven't we resorted to this option?"

"Because that feeling of something crawling on your skin is caused by earthworms, and everybody in this castle hates insects."

"Eek!" Donghyuck jumped in fear, brushing off the bugs from his sleeves. "Why are you still lying there?"

"Bugs don't bother me," Mark said. Donghyuck wasn't blind. He could see leeches sucking off Mark's neck. "Check your hair. You might have lice."

"Why would I have lice? Do you have lice?"

"No."

"Okay, Mark, I'm really sorry that you committed suicide that way, but can we go back inside now? What about we go to the basement? No poltergeists ever go there, right?"

"Donghyuck, that basement is cursed."

"And so are we."

"You don't understand. The basement is cursed in a way where you step one foot into that room, you no longer become yourself."

"You become a cannibal?" Donghyuck asserted. "Yeah, I've seen it with my own eyes. I've experienced it myself. I ate someone out of spite because I couldn't accept that I'm trapped in this place with no escape. The next day, that complaint went away sooner than I had expected. What's the problem now?"

Mark pursed his lips.

"There is something about that basement with no lights that makes me crave for flesh. Even if I stepped in there alone, I would bite off my own arm and chomp on it."

"Then do it! I don't mind if I get fed on, I just want the best for you. Renjun told me the other day that the basement is a room for the best coping mechanism. You want to let off your anger, you go there and lose yourself, he said. And I believe him."

"You're right,” Mark sighed. “Whatever you're implying, you're right. You think I'm unstable and I'm just doing a good job hiding it."

"Damn right you're hiding it well. For fuck's sake, I think there are even chiggers biting your back."

"And I'm frustrated because I can't remember why I committed suicide to the point that it's killing me, and no dreams could make me remember so far. But once I go inside that basement, I'll go crazy and might hurt you."

"I don't care. I want you to be okay. I want _you_ to unleash your demons."

"Fine!" Mark huffed. "But under one condition. Tonight will go unspoken for the rest of our stay here."

"Deal."

The basement was unoccupied when they got there. As usual, it was unlit, the only source of light coming from the sensory light bulbs on the walls outside. Mark was standing there on the doorframe, thus kept two lone bulbs on. Donghyuck went to the center, his eyes roaming around the room, from the ceiling to the carpeted floor.

"No blood prints," Donghyuck said. "We're the first here. Might as well occupy this basement for the rest of the night."

Mark didn't answer, instead, grinned from ear to ear, wearing the type of malicious look better left unseen in the dark.

This wasn't Mark. The Mark Donghyuck knew was composed and analytical. The Mark in front of him was simpering, giving him a lascivious stare, and he never did that. He never does that. He began to snigger, maniacally at best. Mark caved into the darkness, the sensory bulbs flickering off the moment he was out of their radar. There was a sense of odd aspects, _grotesque_ ones, all circulating between their dead souls.

"Mark," Donghyuck hesitantly backed away. "Who are you? W-What are you?"

"What do you mean? I'm Mark."

"You are not."

"Oh. Well then. Let's say… I'm something."

Mark was not laughing anymore. The glare in his eyes was what brought Donghyuck to his knees.

"You'll make a nice meal." Mark grinned. "Now let's see how many pieces I can cut you into."

  
  
  
  
  


Things weren't going right on the third floor.

Jisung claimed to see shadows dancing in the ballroom while Chenle didn't find it in himself to believe the younger. There were far more important matters to focus on, avoiding the poltergeists for example.

"Where is Jaemin hyung when you need him?" Chenle said, flashing their flashlight to frames hung on the wall. They were in the hall of fame. "Besides, where are those three anyway? I haven't seen them since dinner."

"Who cares? Maybe they're in their bed chambers having the best night of their lives unless the poltergeists are raging under their blankets."

"Speak for yourself."

"Oh shit!" Jisung flinched at the sudden gust of cold wind, which resulted in Chenle's laughter. "Don't laugh at me, I'll slice you."

"It was just the wind. Wait, there are no windows nearby. Maybe it was an invisible wisp."

"Lele, don't you feel like being watched?" Jisung croaked, fingers still cloaking onto Chenle's sleeve. "The paintings. The paintings are watching us."

"You're just being paranoid."

"Hell of course I would be paranoid. If I'm not mistaken, those paintings are..." He gulped. "Watching our every move."

"No, they're not," Chenle denied and looked straight ahead. "Uh oh. I think I see something."

"What?"

"A figure, I think. It looks humanoid."

Jisung nervously chuckled. His ears may be paying heed to Chenle, but his eyes were totally on a different plane of attention. On the paintings. "That must be one of Jaemin hyung's mannequins. You know, since he's interested in sewing clothes nowadays instead of relying on our magic wardrobes."

"Why would he put a mannequin in front of the library?"

"Wait a minute," this time, Jisung tore away his stare from the painting of a Japanese man named Yukio Mishima, grabbing Chenle's flashlight. He directed it to the painting next to it. "That wasn't there before. Lele, have you seen that painting before? No, right? Who would put it up there?"

However, Chenle had his focus elsewhere. He could see something despite the dim light and the flashlight Jisung was flashing on the wall.

"That's not a mannequin. It's a creature."

"Lele."

"It's a creature I've seen before, something I've never seen inside this castle, and it's staring at me again."

"Lele!" Jisung yelled. "My eyes hurt!"

Chenle finally turned around to see Jisung going frantic, the latter covering his eyes. Chenle snatched the flashlight out of his hands and flashed it to the suspected creature standing in front of the library. It was gone.

"Lele, don't look at the paintings," Jisung warned, eyes remaining shut. "Don't look at their eyes. Just don't."

"Okay, Ji, I won't." Chenle inspected him up close even with their only flashlight nearing its battery limit. He intertwined their hands. "Are you okay?"

"Fuck, no, I can't see," Jisung cursed. "My eyes are opened. Wide. I still can't see you."

"What do you see then?"

"Nothing."

Chenle wasn't surprised in the very least, but he hugged Jisung out of spite. He was concerned and angry, yes, but he too was vulnerable. "It's okay, they're gone now. The paintings no, but the creature, yeah I guess. We'll be fine. We're immortals, after all."

"Let's get out of here," Jisung said. "I think I can make it to the third floor, to our room, but only if you agree to be my eyes."

"Yeah, about that, we have a problem."

"What?"

"I can't feel my legs."

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck woke up like nothing happened. So did Mark.

It was only 7 in the morning whereas the sun hadn't risen that high yet. Its bottom left the horizon when Mark and Donghyuck sat on the edge of the cliff, their legs dangling in the presence of a monitored nature. They watch the sun and clouds do their jobs to make a picturesque view, one that looked realistic yet so fake.

"I had a nice sleep," Donghyuck spoke. "I dreamt about going to an amusement park named Lotte World with my younger siblings. You?"

"Hmmmm, I dreamt of performing on stage. I saw a sign backstage that said it was a competition."

"What did you perform?"

"Flute. I think it was Debussy."

It was silent after that. Donghyuck nodded at Mark without looking at him, the sunlight streaks on the sea reflected on his thin pupils.

"Mind if I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"If we are hurt one day, then we wake up the next day like nothing happened with no memory of that pain from yesterday, if we are hurt enough to die, then why did your previous friends die?"

Mark gave him a sad glance, almost as if he felt like crying. "You really want to know?"

Donghyuck hesitantly nodded. "I do."

Mark took a deep breath, clasping his own hands to the lone thought of everything was going to be okay.

"They could only die the same way they died in their past lives," he started off. "Same goes for us. For example, if one of the hyungs died by euthanasia with the help of his friend, and by being stabbed near the heart, then someone would stab him right at the same spot."

Donghyuck blinked. "Huh? Then that means I'll never die here."

"Why?"

"I was hit by a train, remember?"

Mark’s mouth hung open. "... Oh."

Mark stared at Donghyuck for a while. _Shit_. There were no trains around, not even a sign of metropolitan life, so guaranteed, indeed, there was no way Donghyuck would die in purgatory. Guaranteed, he would not leave the place since he too had no intentions of atoning for his sins, not over the dead bodies belonging to long-gone souls whose sojourns ended as a tragedy. _Holy shit_.

"Look," Mark brought up. "I don't know if the same method theory is true, because if you died because of a train, then why would God send you here, an island with no trace of urban culture whatsoever?" Mark asserted. "Unless you're the first to be punished as an immortal stuck in this place."

"Oh my god," Donghyuck rasped. "I don't know how to react to that."

"I'm sorry, I won't know how to deal with that so I don't know how to help you. I mean, I can just go up there in the castle's tallest tower and jump off then I'm in for a worse life than my previous one as my final punishment or some sort."

"It's okay. Maybe I can die some other way."

Mark tilted his head. "You really are collected for someone who had just heard some terrible news.”

"I don't care. I'm light-headed, I don't care as long as I'm surrounded by people who are nice." Donghyuck admitted. "And guess what, maybe I would kick purgatory's ass and prove your theories wrong. I might find a way to get out without having to die."

Another silence. Mark looked saddened while Donghyuck, on the contrary, was buoyant, deliberately trying to hide the glum within his strained expressions.

"I'm sorry about last night too."

"No, that too is okay."

"You really felt nothing?"

"None at all," Donghyuck assured. "No kidding."

"My memories from last night are vague, but at some point, I think I might've dismembered you."

"Well look," Donghyuck directed to his legs hanging off the island's borderline. "Nothing's changed. When I ate Renjun, there's a part of me that's convinced that I flayed him in the process. His skin was clearer than ever the next day."

"Huh," Mark chuckled. "That further proves we are semi-immortals."

"We are."

"I've done more horrible things to those three, I tell you that."

"I'm not surprised. They all look submissive. And can I be honest?" At Mark's nod, Donghyuck proceeded. "I know it's weird, but I felt nothing. I'd rather say it was blissful."

"Really?"

"It's probably because... I don't know, I don't want to sound like a jackass, but I've been dying to tell you about this." Donghyuck faltered. "... I think I'm in love with you."

Mark didn't react. He stared back at Donghyuck, admiring the unblinking, deep-set hazel beads in his eyes. They were pretty, so pretty Mark would do anything to keep them young and unchanging.

"Looks like I'm in love with you too."

Maybe it was because Donghyuck felt drawn to Mark for some absurd reasons, but that was another story. And maybe that was why Donghyuck felt nonchalant about the monstrous acts they've done to each other, from murdering to eating till bones surfaced, and there was still this string of attachment that led them to each other again and again.

Falling in love in purgatory wasn't inevitable. Falling in love with a sinner like him was.

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck frolicked back inside the castle, hurdling to the third floor to take a shower. He was stinking and he knew it.

As he was about to pass through the other's bedrooms, he sensed people in the clinic. The door was open as always, and the first thing he saw inside were two occupied beds positioned next to each other. He gasped.

Donghyuck stormed in, looking worriedly at their two youngest friends. It was only then when he acknowledged the other three presences in the room whose faces he hadn't seen for the last twelve hours.

"Oh, it's you, Hyuck. Where's Mark?"

"Making brunch." Donghyuck whipped his head to Renjun, gesturing to the teenagers on the beds. "What's with them?"

"They won't wake up."

"And why?"

"We found them passed out in the middle of the gallery hall, second floor." Jeno answered. "We were assuming something happened while they were there."

"I'm telling you, Jisung looked at the eyes of the people in the paintings. And when you look at them, it becomes really cold. Chenle and Jisung can't stand the cold."

Jeno gave Jaemin a look of disbelief. "Why would you know that? About the paintings, not your last sentence."

"Been there," Jaemin said. "Trust me, it's no good. Besides that, have you seen the people in the paintings? I did some research and scavenged information about them in the library bearing knowledge of only their names and the dates they were born and died as displayed at the bottom of their frames. And guess what? They're all people who committed suicide. Today, I propose to you a theory: this purgatory set is designed for people who committed suicide. What if those people in the paintings had their purgatory life here before the next generation came?"

"Na Jaemin, there are two children bordering between unconsciousness and eternal unconsciousness, there's no time for your stupid theory," Renjun complained. "Get the candles! We'll drag them back from whatever astral plane they're on!"

Jaemin pretended not to hear him. Jeno did the same.

"The way you say it, the more I don't want to go to the second floor anymore," Jeno shivered. "And it’s a good thing I've never stared at the paintings. Just being next to them gives me the creeps."

"Right?" Jaemin chimed. "I'm disappointed because the hall didn't include Virginia Woolf. Search her in books and look at her picture, then you'll see me."

"That doesn’t make any sense," Donghyuck frowned. "Why would we see you in a woman?"

"It will make sense if you read her biography."

"Wait, that name does ring a bell," Renjun hesitated. "Is she the feminist who put rocks in her pockets before drowning herself in a river?"

"Bingo!"

"She drowned herself?" Jeno gasped. "You sly son of a bitch, did you really have to quote someone else's death?”

“Admit it, that was witty."

"Okay, enough with this bullcrap," Donghyuck intervened. "I've been meaning to ask the three of you. Where were you last night?"

"Oh, that," Jaemin hummed. "We'd rather not say."

It was strange, Donghyuck wanted to say, but couldn't because of the aura they posed. Like a threat, like a warning, or something hazardous. Shaking the thought off, he turned back to Chenle and Jisung on their beds, approaching closer.

"Why aren't they breathing?" Donghyuck knitted his eyebrows. "What happened exactly?"

Jeno shrugged his shoulders. "They probably passed out from last night's events."

"It's okay for them not to breathe," Jaemin assured. "It's natural for us not to breathe when we're sleeping."

"Are you serious?"

The corners of Jaemin’s mouth quirked up.

"We're not humans anymore, Hyuckie."

  
  
  
  
  


It had been an unpleasant afternoon, and it continued to be until 6. Donghyuck was a witness to the unfolded events, all of them composed of the three. It happened at the backyard, whereas Donghyuck was watching from the lounge room through the antique window. He held up a children's book to his face to avoid being spotted.

"You know what you are? A jerk. That's what you are." Renjun said. "How long have you been doing this? How long?"

"Since I first came here, I guess," Jaemin defended. "Jeno was my first."

"You really don't care, do you? Do you ever think about our feelings? You are killing two people here. You are unstable. Heartless. We don't want you, at least not anymore."

"Eh," Jaemin shrugged. "Well, I'm sorry, it's not my fault you were both submissive and easy to manipulate."

"Stop talking to us like we're damaged!"

"Then act like a decent human for once and reconsider my feelings too!" Jaemin shot back. "You're making me the monster. That's okay. But whose fault it is that I became one?"

"You," Renjun clicked his tongue. "You turned yourself into a monster. Jeno and I had nothing to do with it, so fuck you."

"Guys... You know what? I hate you both."

Those cold words spread through their heads like a knife. But it didn't matter. Putting on a tough exterior, Renjun pulled Jeno by the wrist as they walked away from Jaemin, never looking back. Jaemin didn't seem fazed in the slightest despite his clenched fists.

Donghyuck’s face contorted in terror, placing down the children’s book on his lap. Luna’s Red Hat, its spine and cover said.

  
  
  
  
  


Night had fallen. Dinner was prepared by Mark and Jaemin, an unusual duo. They have never cooked before together, but as a last resort, they had to.

"Jaem?" Donghyuck leaned over the unoccupied side of the kitchen counter to get his attention. "Have you seen Renjun?"

"No. Why?"

"I'm craving hotpot, so I thought I could ask him. What about Jeno? He knows how to cook that too, right?"

"I can cook you hotpot."

"Oh," Donghyuck muttered. "Thanks. You know, while you and Mark finish up, I can find those two. Any idea where they might be?"

"It's dangerous, Hyuckie. It's like zero degrees out there," Jaemin said. "And you have to stop worrying about them."

"But I can't do that. They're not inside this castle, who knows where they might be? Freezing to death?"

Jaemin placed a serving platter of braised ribs in front of Donghyuck. He gave him a treacherous leer, which, in any way, wasn't surprising. What made Donghyuck uncomfortable was his flirtatious smile.

"They'll come home soon."

  
  
  
  
  


It was another hell night, but with only three conscious people in the castle, the poltergeists were either bound to be bored or fall back on those three.

Mark was a deep sleeper like Donghyuck. Of course, he fell asleep in their bedroom, alone, blindfold tucked in as the lamp was being flickered on and off.

Jaemin was not a deep sleeper. He tried his best to fall asleep even without the two dearest people to him sleeping beside him, but the untouched pillows were too much. No one to hug, no one to wake up to, no bodies to squeeze himself between. Nobody.

So he shut his eyes for four consecutive hours. He tried to drown out the sound of the door being continuously swung open and slammed close in desperate desire to fall into slumber until he heard something else.

Not the hinges of the door grating, but a familiar voice.

"Do you think keeping your eyes shut will keep you safe?"

"FUCK!"

A familiar pair of eyes were now staring at Jaemin through the absence of light. Startled, Jaemin hopped off his bed, his nightgown swaying as his undraped legs had been exposed to the cold. He muttered a few more curses under his breath until his heartbeat raced back to normal. 

"You've been hiding under my bed all this time?!"

"You said they'd come home." Donghyuck reminded sternly. "Where are they?"

"What? Oh, Injun and Jen?" Ah yes. Jaemin had the guts to call them by their nicknames. "I don't know. Why do you care about them so much?"

"What time will they come home?"

"No idea. Usually, it would take– fuck," Jaemin pulled his hair back in distress, turning away from Donghyuck. He stood near the window, peering at the moonless sky. "Listen, Hyuck, I badly want to sleep right now."

Donghyuck ignored the last part of his statement. "Usually it would take what?"

"I've gone on three nights without sleeping, and I know we're supposed to not be humans anymore, but apparently needing sleep is still in our elements. I can be anemic, and that will kill me because I move around a lot."

"Usually it would take _what?"_

"... Around twelve hours."

"Twelve hours," Donghyuck hissed. "What you're not telling me has something to do with their disappearance and you know damn well how long will it take for them to come back. I'm observant, Jaemin, you can't fool me."

"What are you insinuating?"

"I know you're responsible for their disappearance. You made them disappear. You might've hidden them somewhere, maybe in a secret room in this castle and tied them together and suffocated them with a plastic bag, or anything else that would've resulted in their deaths," Donghyuck’s lips drew back a snarl, stabbing a finger at the other. "I saw you argue outside the castle. I heard everything. And I know the murderer in you would do anything to make them feel pain."

"Pain?" Jaemin scoffed, tight-lipped. "Not really. It's just a small act, don't twist your imagination. I would never hurt them. Physically."

Donghyuck bit his lip. "What did you do to them?"

"Why would I tell you?"

"I'll do the laundry for one week."

"No."

"Two weeks."

"Unconvincing," Jaemin fired. "No. I'm not telling you anything. You'll find out one way or another. Just not now, fucking hell, I really need to sleep. I am begging you."

"Fine. At least answer this: where were you last night? You couldn't have been in the basement, Mark and I were there. You couldn't have been on the second floor, the gallery hall will always make your blood run cold once you're there. If you were trying to sleep in your chambers, then honest to God, you're all– I don't know– inhumane opposing to the way we are inhumane right now."

Jaemin didn’t say anything. That, for the most part, irked Donghyuck.

"Are you going to answer or the poltergeists will do it for you?"

"Fine!" Jaemin rolled his eyes. "We were here in this room we are standing on right now. We couldn't block out the nosy spirits, yes, but we had an open-up session. Not the open-up gory kind, the literal open-up."

"What did you talk about then?"

"I can barely remember things. I had a headache from trying to stop myself from breaking down, and the next thing I know, I slipped on about two-timing them. They didn’t realize it at first, but Renjun brought it up while we were in the clinic to look after Lele and ‘Sung."

"You're lying."

Jaemin shook his head once more. He had a humorless smile plastered on his face.

"It hurts. That, I'll tell you."

"What does?"

"Being called a monster for being hopeless," Jaemin chuckled, defenseless. His eyes were sparked with frailty. "Like, I can't help it. I can't be sorry for not being able to deal with it, hell, I won't even apologize to God for disappointing him. That's the way I cope. That's the way I am. Because this is me. Look at me. I'm Na Jaemin. And who is Na Jaemin? He’s a disappointment, that’s who."

Donghyuck learned two things that night. Jaemin possessed a vulnerable side, was one, and the other was once you occupy the space beneath a bed, no poltergeist will squeeze in or bother you.

Donghyuck wended back to his and Mark’s room, head down. His mind was clouded with trifling thoughts.

  
  
  
  
  


"What do you want for dinner? Hyung will cook for you! What? You want ice cream? I know it's only 1 in the afternoon, it's just I'm on my way to the grocery, okay? Okay, I'll buy you ice cream. And tteokbokki. I got you, okaaay, lock the doors, stay safe."

Donghyuck swallowed the last piece of his gimbap, strolling away from the food stall before crossing the street. He pocketed his phone with a smile on his face. Nothing could compare to the happiness he felt when talking to his younger siblings.

The weather was great. Chilly, but still great to be outside. Going inside a grocery store might as well save him from the cold.

It didn't take him long to do the groceries. With only two bags dangling from his folded fingers, he took the bus home. He arrived at their apartment block too soon, lucking out due to no traffic ingestion.

Donghyuck took the stairs all the way to the fourth floor since for some reason, the elevator was broken. It was the first time it had been.

Humming to a melody he heard somewhere on the radio in the supermarket, Donghyuck made his way past the unit doors. It was at that time when he caught a glimpse of a man's foot disappearing to the other hallway, the man seemingly dressed black from head to toe.

At first, Donghyuck didn't think of them as someone suspicious, until he heard something shut close. His eyes fell to his own unit door.

It was closed now. It hadn't been the second before.

Anxiety building up, Donghyuck dropped the grocery bags to the floor and entered their pin code on the security monitor. He didn't waste time barging in, unarmed.

What laid before him was the same thing he had seen before in a terrible dream. Except for this time, it showed what he did prior.

"Oh god," he mumbled. "Fuck, this can't be happening."

Shell-shocked, he shut his eyes. He wanted to vomit and fall into slumber to excuse everything as a dream. He'd seen something horrid, not vague, not abstract, but one of authentic sight. The amount of blood welling onto the floor and the number of young bodies were, indeed, sufficient to make his heart sink to his feet.

  
  
  
  
  


Renjun plodded towards the castle.

He was covered in dirt. He smelled like soil and herbaceous plants, centipedes crawling around his body garbed in clothes ripped and eaten by whatever insects were under the soil along with him. He smelled like strong earth, the odor acrid, and yet nobody saw him staining the lavish carpets with muddy footsteps on his way to the third floor.

The castle was deserted, which was nothing out of ordinary. The place was massive, so nobody could spot each other too often. Renjun had assumed the others were either at the library or the terrace above the kitchen, where no one could smell the foul odor of mixed earth and dung he brought.

He walked straight into the shower and undressed, tossing the dirtied clothes to the trash. He usually took short showers, but it wouldn’t hurt to be different this time. Drowned in deep thoughts, he showered longer. He had little to no ignorance about yesterday's events.

Afterward, he wrapped the spare towel hung at the back of the bathroom door around his naked, laved body. He sauntered to _their_ bed chamber, sighing in relief upon seeing nobody.

He put on a tweed sweater and left his lower body unclad. He laid there in the middle of the bed only to spend a boring, waste of time staring at the ceiling.

The only sound traveling through the soundwaves in the air was the pecks of crows sitting by their window sills, begging for a handful of berries to eat. That had reminded the dead boy of something.

In one of his dreams, his grandmother told him about crows, warned him that they feast on the eyes of a prophet. He didn't know what she meant until today.

He sensed an underlying presence standing by the door. It was Donghyuck, his face curious yet sullen, arms folded behind. Donghyuck, whose subdued footsteps always go unnoticed.

  
  
  
  
  


It was 3 in the afternoon, the sun peeking through the casement-type windows blazing an ever gleaming radiance. Renjun had no appetite, so he politely told Donghyuck he'd gladly skip lunch. And that was how they stumbled into the great hall on the second floor.

The hall was stupendous in size. Donghyuck didn't know what they would be doing in such a spacious room until he saw Renjun approach the platform at the far end of the room. There was a vinyl record player atop its edge. Renjun was switching the records, he seemed so, and he spoke up to maintain a conversation between him and Donghyuck.

"Have you seen Jeno?"

"No," Donghyuck replied. "But Mark said he did. He's on the fourth floor. I have no idea what he would be doing there."

"Oh. The fourth floor," Renjun curled his lips. "We go there sometimes when we don't want to face anyone or talk to them. Jeno is probably avoiding Jaemin."

"What? Is he practicing self-isolation?"

"Sort of. I bet he has a lot in his mind right now, just like me."

Donghyuck took a deep breath.

"I had a nightmare last night."

"Nightmare at night? That's impossible."

"I know. If purgatory made me dream that, then it's vital for me to find out and use it to piece my past life together, right?"

"True," Renjun answered. "But we don't have to know everything about our past lives. Heck, I think it would've been much better if we didn't find out anything."

Renjun finished fixing the record. The melodies began to resonate in the air, and it took Donghyuck a moment to recognize the music.

"Really? Tchaikovsky?"

"Waltz of the flowers," Renjun said. "Why? Do you have a problem with it?"

"No. I just haven't heard it played by someone but myself."

"Me too. I've never danced to it either. This will be my first," Renjun approached Donghyuck. Reaching for the latter's hands, he intertwined their fingers as they began to move in harmony. "Ooh. You're adept."

"I'm a fast learner. Maybe I was a dancer in my past life."

"It would be cool if you were."

"Thanks. Who taught you this step sequence?"

"Jaemin," Renjun said it like he didn't want to, but showed relief when the name rolls off his tongue like it was a sacred text. "Yeah, he taught me this step sequence."

"Is that why you two always do ballroom dance when you have time to spare?"

"You’re quite observant."

The music continued to play. They swayed from left to right with every space in the room to occupy, moving freely with no intentions to stop anytime soon.

"So," Donghyuck cleared his throat. "Where have you been?"

"Guess."

"Somewhere but the castle?"

Renjun nodded.

"I was wondering why the stairs had soil," Donghyuck said. "Were you at the garden?"

"Close. What's the opposite of the garden?"

_What's the opposite of the garden?_ Donghyuck guessed hard, lured into the older’s world to satisfy his curiosity. _Did Renjun mean in terms of literary or in terms of the sites surrounding the castle?_

"Let me guess," Donghyuck muttered. The garden was at the back of the castle. _What's in front of the castle?_ "Were you at the graveyard?"

"Great job."

"Um, I passed by there to pick pears for breakfast this morning. I didn't see you there."

"Think about the soil," Renjun prompted. "Why would I be covered in soil?"

Donghyuck's eyes glinted, both in a spark of hope and grief.

"... Were you buried?"

"Who knew you'd be so smart?" Renjun chuckled. "Yeah. I was buried."

"Alive?"

"Alive," Renjun confirmed. "Now I know how Jaemin felt when he died. Having soil in my mouth isn't entirely a good experience."

Donghyuck winced. "Jeno too?"

"He was buried next to me, though I wished Jaemin didn't block us so we could talk to each other underground. God knows how many times I scratched the soiled wall until I can touch Jeno."

"You should be mad," Donghyuck said. "Jaemin did it to you. You have every right to be mad."

"Are you asking me to let out my demons? No, thank you."

"Why?"

"Jaemin is psychopathic, anyone close to him should know that. He has suffered the most among us. Jeno and I should at least listen to his emotions, right? Unless he doesn’t cooperate."

"I was expecting you to be a little bit harsher on him. That's the Renjun I know," Donghyuck replied. "What if he never learns?"

"Because Donghyuck, we'll forgive him over and over again, in this life or the next."

Donghyuck took a good look at the solemnity in Renjun's face. He was serious. No lies told. Even so, Donghyuck smiled at him and said things he shouldn't have said.

"At least tell me. Isn't Jaemin a jerk?"

"He's a jerk," Renjun said. "A coward. But that's okay. He was once human too."

“It feels weird hearing you feel sorry for him.”

“I do not entirely feel sorry for him if that’s what you want to hear. Only now. Who knows, this part of me might cede someday.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, still in a whirling trance to the waltz. Then, at such a calming time, Renjun brought up a topic rather not bargained for.

"So you and Mark huh?"

"What?" Donghyuck awkwardly laughed. "What about us?"

"Oh, please. Have you seen the look in his eyes when he looks at you? He looks at you like you carry the whole universe."

  
  
  
  
  


Jaemin slept at the lounge that night, which wasn't at all that easy, knowing full well Renjun was in their shared bed chamber sleeping with Jeno. It bothered Donghyuck, fuddled his head like smoke, despite the fact that he was supposed to be feeling safe in Mark's arms.

Chenle and Jisung awoke at the same hour. They had breakfast together, though not including Renjun and Jeno, who had voiced out that they'd rather eat their meals up the terrace until Jaemin apologizes. Said man, as always, was productive in turning the simplest breakfasts into visual appeals and whatnot, but even his creations couldn't lift the mood in the dining room.

Donghyuck tried to do it, to make Chenle and Jisung feel welcomed back to their little, miserable world they've built nothing from but a family. Mark backed him up while Jaemin said nothing. Nothing, not even a word.

Chenle and Jisung conduced. They smiled. At least that one gesture touched Donghyuck's heart, but then he eyed the plate belonging to the brightest kid he knew. It looked like just as it was when it was first served on the table.

"I'm done," said Chenle, now standing on his feet as he carried his plate. "Have a nice day, hyungs."

Mark knitted his eyebrows. "What about your food?"

Chenle held a thumb down, on his way to the stairs that led to the terrace. "No appetite."

Everyone in that room didn't mind except Donghyuck. Something was off. Being with these people for almost a month now was enough for him to know Chenle never skips meals. He had the biggest stomach among them. He would never do anything off the hook. Or would he?

So that afternoon, while Chenle was out to go apple picking with Jeno, Donghyuck snuck into his room to look for anything unusual, at the same time hoping Jisung, the roommate, wouldn't spot him. Mark did tell him prior that Jisung was planning to make a pudding using Jaemin's recipe to kill time and heal his soul, so crossed fingers he wouldn't get caught.

There under Chenle's pillow, the one juxtapositioned to the left part of the headboard, Donghyuck found something he shouldn't have seen.

An envelope with the word 'confidential' written in front of it in black marker and capitalized letters, it appeared to be. An envelope containing papers, its corners creased due to constant pressing of heads against the pillow.

Donghyuck slid it back underneath its softness. He sprinted out of the room, racing down the stairs. He peeked his head into the lounge room where Mark was eating chips while reading a novel, a different one of the same female author’s this time.

"Markie, have you seen Chenle?"

All it took for Mark to answer was to point towards the upper corner of the room, his mouth full and not wanting crumbs to scatter onto the couch. Donghyuck immediately knew where he was directing.

Donghyuck then dashed to the kitchen, past the pantry, and to the stairs leading up to the terrace. He overheard a faded conversation shared by no more than two parties.

It was Chenle, as expected, and the other man turned out to be Jeno. They were leaning over the terrace rail, sighting the flock of birds forming the letter 'V' on the sky. Their baskets filled with apples rested atop the table, next to the vase of tamed roses whose thorns have been diligently trimmed. Donghyuck moved closer to hear their voices more coherently.

They were talking about possible places the birds could fly to.

"I, for one, do think those birds are one of God's computer graphics."

"Name one of His computer graphics," Chenle said. "I saw Renjun hyung jumping off the island's cliff when he couldn't sleep. The waters are real, except they'll send you back to the island no matter what."

"See? Another reason why the waters can't be real. If it is, then it must be controlled. And don't ever bring Renjun's suicidal attempt up again. I saw him that morning. He didn't look good."

"What, with his head bashed against the rocks on the shore and his brain all mushy?"

"Shut up."

"Do you ever think about how God must've added a DVD of The Truman Show to our collection for a reason? What if His angels are the ones monitoring us?"

"Oooh, another theory right there."

“Right? I’m starting to think we’re living in a simulation.”

“God’s simulation, haha. That sounds like a revolutionary book title.”

"Guys," Donghyuck called. They turned to him at the same time. "Um, hello."

"'Duckie hyung!" Chenle chirped. "Hello. Want some apples?"

"Uh, listen, I need to talk to you."

Based on his tone alone, Chenle picked it up as an implication of something important. He didn't fail to notice the way Donghyuck gave Jeno a look to which the latter nodded at, smiling before he exited the terrace and left.

Donghyuck faced the younger, his arms crossed.

"I found medical papers in your room. Why did you not tell us?"

Chenle, for once, looked horrified. What Donghyuck hadn't picked up until now was the pill bottle clasped away in his hand the whole time he had been with Jeno.

"I-I can explain."

Donghyuck gestured to his hand. "Put the pills down."

Chenle did as told. He avoided looking at the older, afraid of being glared at.

"How did you die?"

He didn't answer. Donghyuck raised his voice, stern and rigid.

"Lele, how did you die?"

Chenle angled his chin up, met with the conceivable regard in Donghyuck's gaze.

"Overdosing."

"You were planning to kill yourself to get out of this purgatory? I thought we all promised to not leave each other."

"I didn't mean to–"

"I thought we are a family."

"I-I'm sorry, okay? That night in the gallery hall, I may have tried to act tough in front of Jisung because I'm older and it's my role to keep him out of harm's way, but I'm actually weaker than him. I wanted to die and skip life for the rest of that night. And to tell you the truth, I really want to get out of this place... I think I want to escape more than anyone. I just don't want to atone."

Donghyuck cocked an eyebrow.

"You do know that it would hurt us, right? Have you ever considered that? It'll haunt us. And you know who your suicide will haunt the most? Jisung."

"It's not like I didn't think of that," Chenle defended. "It's just sometimes when things get too unbearable, life here, even if it's unreal, makes me want to stop living."

His eyes welled up with tears. His chin started to tremble. He fell to his knees, his chest heaving with sobs. It may be the worst thing Donghyuck had ever done.

"Shh," Donghyuck hurried beside him and inclined the younger's head onto his shoulder, leaning against the railing. "It'll be okay. Everything'll be okay. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

Chenle hadn't stopped crying. He sniveled, his breath erratic. Donghyuck hushed him in the most gentle way possible, rubbing consoling circles on his back.

"I'll remind you once again what Mark told me, Lele, that we are souls," He denoted. "We are the undead, yet the most wounded."

It took Chenle a few minutes to calm down and return his breathing pattern to normal. They didn't speak for a long time. That was until Donghyuck's voice filled the echoing silence.

"How long has Jisung known?"

Chenle pursed his lips in thought.

"Since the day he first came, I think, which was about two weeks before you did. We were roommates after all."

"Mm. Is he the epitome of your dream best friend for not saying anything, or he's just great at keeping secrets?"

"Hm, what if I said both?"

  
  
  
  
  


Brunch was over. Instead of hanging out in the lounge where Renjun was taking a nap, Mark and Donghyuck decided to spend the latter half of the day on the treehouse so the older could do an embroidery art with no disturbance whatsoever. On their way there, they saw Chenle and Jisung raking the leaves beside the castle, which they've repeatedly jumped on for a taste of youth before raking them once more.

"When did those two wake up?"

"Just this morning," said Donghyuck, wearing a proud smile. "They're feeling healthy too, so there's no need to worry."

"What happened to Chenle's overdosing habit?"

"I helped him drain his pills down the sink. He promised to never do it again."

"That's good to hear," Mark said, switching from a gray thread to black. He took in a deep breath. "I'm a bad hyung. I can't believe I've never noticed it in his behavior."

"C'mon, it's not your fault." Donghyuck patted him on the back. "Chenle's too good at hiding his real emotions, and to quell that, we'll need to be more open and appear trustworthy. That's what a family does."

Mark continued to do his embroidery. It was a skull fading into petals, much to Donghyuck’s astonishment. He figured talking Mark into his own bubble of swarming questions shouldn’t be a form of distraction in any way.

"I still find it weird that I don't remember who I used to be."

"It's best that you don't,” Mark said. “One of my hyungs, Jaehyun was his name, found out through his dreams that he was a hitman in his past life, and he couldn't bear thinking of the burdens he brought upon a number of families and friends."

"Why would he dream something he shouldn't be dreaming about?"

Mark gave him a knowing glance. "He slept during the day."

"... Oh."

Donghyuck, for another time he was with Mark, looked terrified. He didn't even know this Jaehyun guy, nevertheless, his story gave him the uninvited goosebumps.

"How long do you think you have till your demise?"

"I don't know." Donghyuck poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, uncertain. "I want to be with all of you even if it means being haunted by spirits, which is funny because I haven't known you guys for a month yet."

"Please, friendship is not measured by time. Or family, for that matter."

"Oh, look at you. Whoever your significant other was in your past life, they're so lucky to get such a sweet guy like you."

Mark laughed softly at that. It led Donghyuck to believe that Mark might be fond of compliments.

"Speaking of past life, that reminds me," Donghyuck spoke. "I had a dream the other night."

"The night that was supposed to be our first as a couple? The night you slept with Jaemin instead?"

"Jeez, you're a better person than Renjun," Donghyuck pinched him on the shoulder, earning a hushed mewl. "Don't let him beat you when it comes to jealousy."

"What did you want to talk to me about?"

"It's about my siblings."

"What about them?"

"I didn't kill them."

"Really?" Mark said. "What made you think that?"

"I saw the murderer clad in black. I didn't chase them though. I chose to see my siblings first and go inside our apartment. The dream I saw before was the aftermath, where I was standing in front of their bodies and my mind went blank."

Mark kept his mouth shut, prompting Donghyuck to blabber on.

"You know, based on the happy dreams I've had the previous weeks, my younger siblings were only high school kids while I was in college. Our mom bought us the apartment unit because their schools and my university were only far as a walking distance, and even then, they said they couldn't live without me. I must've grown up in a family raised to love each other."

"Wait," Mark set aside his embroidery. "I think I know now what your intentions for suicide were."

"What?"

"Maybe you did it thinking you would meet them in the afterlife."

"Hmm. Maybe," Donghyuck pondered. "I must've known what it feels like to lose your family."

Mark inclined Donghyuck's head against his shoulder, sniffing his hair. He gave him a kiss on the forehead.

"I guarantee it'll never happen to you again."

  
  
  
  
  


Lounge room, an hour before hell night began. Everyone was there except Jaemin, who had gone to sleep earlier than usual in spite of his irregular caffeine intake. Mark and Jeno, along with the two youngest, were squeezed on the couch, either eating chips nearing expiration dates or watching a terrible black and white French movie, or both. Renjun was at the far end of the room sitting on a stool, an easel and a canvas in front of him waiting to flaunt a striking piece of art, while Donghyuck watched him blend the acrylic before starting on the canvas, fingers bent for emphasis.

"You know you told me something you shouldn't have said back in the ballroom, Hyuck," Renjun said, audible only for him and Donghyuck to hear. "What if you tell it to others now?"

"Which one?"

"Not the one you said while we were dancing, but the one you said before we left."

"No, I am not telling them about Mark's secret." Donghyuck surveyed the way Renjun glided his dipped brush on the canvas. "It's his secret. We should respect that."

Renjun flung his brush onto the half-filled cup sitting on another stool next to the easel. He was about to get up his stool to reach out for the shelf when Donghyuck pushed him back down, flustered. He knew what Renjun's intentions were just as he knew well what was stored on the shelving.

"No axes, please."

"Then tell him."

"Why are you so desperate to make me do it?"

"Because it's not like a privilege for you and Mark to keep it a secret," he rejoindered. "There are other people in this castle too. It's not just you and Mark."

Donghyuck slumped his shoulders, his nose stuck up in the air. He faced the people on the sofa focused on the television, whose backs of heads were to Renjun and Donghyuck as the two of them were at the back of the lounge. Chenle and Jisung were in the middle of a small conversation, probably that of trivial matters, and he cut through it ruthlessly with only five words, his voice raised.

"Mark has a secret room!"

They turned to him in unison, the French movie forgotten. A chorus of 'what's and 'huh's resonated, and Donghyuck took note of Jeno's wide eyes, recoiling.

Jisung choked on the sourness of his gummy bear. "Why are you telling us this just now?"

"Mark told me to keep it a secret." He took a few hesitant steps back. "That's all."

Mark glanced at Donghyuck. Glossy, his eyes showed not a sign of resentment, but he did look… Betrayed. He tore his attention away from Donghyuck back to the television, though too distracted to get back at the movie's plotline any further.

Renjun, on the other hand, wore a proud grin as he continued to paint and fill the white spaces with fiery, vibrant colors. Donghyuck looked at Mark one more time, shaking his head before he stormed out of the lounge, guilt weighing on his shoulders.

Chenle turned back to Jisung. "You were saying?"

"I'm proposing a theory, and it's entitled 'I'm left with no choice but to believe purgatories are asylums built in heaven.'"

"Hey, we're not that crazy."

"We are," Jeno intervened. "During nighttime."

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck, to be frank, wasn't having a great night. It was eight and he ought to sleep earlier than usual as that day had been a little overwhelming for him, though only then did he discover something new about himself. He can't sleep alone.

Mark didn't come into their room that night, and Donghyuck was bordering between waiting for Mark and trying to fall asleep. Even after an hour had passed, he never heard the familiar creak of the door being opened, nor felt certain someone lay down on the bed next to him. Never.

What made his night worse was the poltergeists rattling the cabinets, the same poltergeists who tried to make him float the other night– and Donghyuck couldn't handle them, especially when they were so close to getting into his head.

Fingers moist, Donghyuck let out a scream of terror as he ran out of the room, clad in his floral robes and barefoot, his slippers under the bed neglected of use. The excruciating cold seeped through the sensitive skin of his feet, which then made him resort to a different and nearest room.

"HOLY FUCK!"

Donghyuck yelped at the sight of the people on the bed. They were stark naked, covering their bodies with the duvets, and before Donghyuck can ask them about it and mention the temperature, he became aware of the heat. _The heat_.

They have a fucking heater.

"What the hell?" Renjun protruded from under their blanket. "Hyuck? What are you doing here? And can you please close the door?"

"I'm sorry," Donghyuck breathed. He slammed the door and fell to the ground, stamina drained. "I'm so sorry, oh god, I freaked out. The poltergeists got in my head."

"They got in your head?" Jeno said, cocking his head to the man who was just as disrobed as him. "See? That was what I meant about them possessing you in the head. They may not know how to control your body, but they know how to fuck with your mind."

"Why are you two naked? My bad, let me rephrase that. Are you having sexual intercourse?"

"What?" They squawked in unison. "No!"

"Okay, next question," Donghyuck's eyes roamed the room. "Where are the poltergeists?"

"Sealed in that sacred vase," Renjun pointed to the item on top of their dressing desk. "I found it in the basement. We're using it to keep the poltergeists away. Unfortunately, it can only hold up to fifteen poltergeists and keep the others away from the room it's in."

"I'm not even gonna ask why you have it in your room," Donghyuck stated. "Why is it only the two of you here? Where's Jaemin?"

"Uhhh," Renjun drawled. "He didn't come. Why are you here anyway?"

"Because Mark didn't come, just like Jaemin did. So look at me in the eyes and say where he is, right now!"

"We don't know. We don't care about that guy anymore. It won't be always the three of us."

"Where is he?"

"We hate him. We really do. He hurt us so many times we want him to go to hell after this purgatory phase."

"Where _is_ Jaemin?"

"Because he's psychopathic, he might impale us with the gardening shovel, so we've decided to progress past the need to–"

"He's with Mark," Jeno said modestly. "They’re together. I saw them go inside Chenle and Jisung's room, so it's safe to assume they're just watching over them. Ever since that night at the gallery hall, they've been feeling paranoid over the days."

"Oh. Oh, good Lord, that’s quite... Understandable," Donghyuck vacillated. "And reasonable, of course. God, I thought Mark was doing something stupid again."

"And that, my friend, comes the trust issues."

"What trust issues?"

"Were you waiting for Mark like you were being a delusional ass?"

"I would hate to admit that, but yes, I might've been a delusional ass."

"See," Renjun accentuated. "After exposing his secret, you start to think if he has stopped trusting you and started to question your actions. The same thing happened with Jaemin and Jeno. And me."

Jeno nodded at that. Wrath clouded Donghyuck’s features.

"A-Are you trying to set us up? Me and Mark? When we're working hard to trust and get to know each other?"

"He's testing you," Jeno replied. "Let it go, Donghyuck. Injun just wants you and Mark to become a real couple unlike us. Heck, God never designed purgatories for souls to fall in love, so everything ends up falling apart when things get out of hands between people."

It took Donghyuck a moment to wrap that around his head, to process everything and comprehend the point. He blanked out for a good second, only snapping back to reality when Renjun called his name.

"So Hyuck, wanna sleep with us? It's a king-sized bed."

"But you're naked."

"Not really. We're wearing our underwear."

"Fine," Donghyuck sluggishly responded. He ambled towards the bed and squeezed between them, hogging half of the moire duvets. There was still a hint of frost in the air despite the heater. "Oh wow, this is the softest bed I've ever laid on."

"Yeah. We consider ourselves lucky to get this room."

Silence braced them for a minute. Renjun and Jeno were close to dozing off, and Donghyuck was the only one now who was staring still at the ceiling with sagging, jaded eyes.

"Guys," he said. "Thank you so much."

Renjun and Jeno held up their thumbs in the air at the same time. Uncanny, because they had their eyes shut.

That night, Donghyuck reminded himself again of what family and lovers mean, and how telepathy was an important element of both.

And oh how funny it was that Renjun had changed over a short period of time. It seemed like all the things he said about Jaemin in the ballroom were nothing but pathological lies.

  
  
  
  
  


Clad in his robes with nothing underneath, Donghyuck sauntered out of the room he had never slept in before until now. Renjun and Jeno were nowhere to be seen, making Donghyuck the one to last wake up. He traipsed down the flight of stairs, past the lobby, and to the kitchen, where he saw Renjun in the dining room alone, peeling tangerines.

"Hey," Renjun watched Donghyuck rub his eyes. "Tangerines?"

"No thanks. I'm not hungry."

Jeno might've heard him talk because he peeked in from the kitchen with his hands wearing kitchen mittens and holding a sauce-covered spatula. "Really? Because I'm making a curry right now."

"I can eat that for lunch," Donghyuck said. "Where are the others?"

"Lele and Jisung went to pick mushrooms. I don't know where Jaemin is."

"He's probably still asleep," Jeno presumed. "Or in the library."

Donghyuck stared at them for a long time, blinking.

"Where's Mark?"

Neither of them spoke. Renjun's chewing noises filled the air.

"Where _is_ Mark?"

"Uh," Jeno drawled. "He went up."

"Up where?"

"The tower."

"Which–"

"West."

Donghyuck bolted out of the dining room. He sprinted up the stairs and headed straight to the empty great hall that had a spiral staircase leading to the west part of the castle. He took that route, never tripping on the seemingly endless flight of stairs as the streaks of the sun's rays peeking through the panoramic windows met his hazel eyes intermittently.

When he reached the top of the tower, he was greeted by the shimmering light belonging to the sky. And there he saw him. Mark, stepping on the tower's tapered rim, his arms spread wide facing the view. Donghyuck would've described it as picturesque, except it was just a picture captured by his eyes before a disaster could unfold.

He didn't want a disaster to unfold.

He ran towards Mark, the latter still oblivious to his presence. Donghyuck briefly grabbed him by the waist.

Mark rasped. "What–"

Donghyuck flipped him to the floor designed with mosaic carvings, which may or may not have pricked Mark's back by accident. Mark groaned.

"What are you doing?!"

"That's my line, you idiot!" Donghyuck fumed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Okay, for that matter, at least let me explain."

Donghyuck sighed, his arms on his hips. He offered an arm to the other and helped him get back to his feet.

"We have all the time in the world."

  
  
  
  
  


They talked it out at the edge of the tower, somehow not overwhelmed by how high they were. One wrong move and they could fall together and gravity wouldn't be able to hold them back. They were multistorey high, however, they could still hear the morning roosters clucking from the distance.

"Renjun told me a lot about you and your behavior around me," Donghyuck adduced. "I do not mean to offend, but why are you so obsessed with me?"

Mark chose to not maintain eye contact, instead, he was looking at the treetops, biting his lip.

"You were someone I saw in my dreams."

"Me? W-What'd I do?"

"You'd– Uh," he scratched his neck. "We'd argue a lot, and as far as I can remember, the setting in my dreams with me and you in it is always in a city."

"Oh my god," Donghyuck gaped, numb with shock. "Uh, we knew each other?"

"I don't know, honestly, but the voices in my head keep saying that I did something terrible to you and I met you here to fix that."

Donghyuck shook his head.

"No. No way. There should be nothing terrible you've done to me."

"Why else did you feel like we've known each other for years when you were only here for a few days? I saw you in my dreams, no doubt about it. There should be at least something God wants me to atone for and something He wants me to know about my past self, and I don't know, maybe I was the one who murdered your siblings or made you kill yourself–"

"No!" Donghyuck took his hand into his, his thumb twidling the skin on the back of Mark's bony fingers. "You didn't do anything. You wouldn't murder anyone. You wouldn't do that."

"But I killed myself."

"That's a different story." Donghyuck pursed his lips. "Now, can you tell me how you had these dreams?"

"..."

"Mark? It's okay, I won't get mad, I'm just curious as to why you would dream about me when you shouldn't be."

The older looked at the ground defeatedly.

"Fine. I fell asleep during the day sometimes when I've been spending the entire nights trying to keep out the poltergeists from sticking their noses to where they don't belong. I was just trying to protect the others. Happy now?"

"Then why did you keep that secret room a secret?"

"It was a special room."

"Special? In what way?"

"That secret room was first discovered by Johnny hyung," Mark said. "I always wondered where he was during all those hell nights while everyone was suffering. Do you know what his last words to me were?"

Donghyuck raised his eyebrows in anticipation. He didn't know who this Johnny guy was, but he sounded like someone Mark would trust with his whole being.

"’There's a secret closet behind the grandfather clock. Hide there when you need to, to keep you safe with someone you truly love.’"

Donghyuck stared at him, gawping.

"Johnny hyung killed himself because he was overwhelmed by his insecurities due to being cheated on several times by several girlfriends, as unrequited romance was probably his thing. The most admirable thing I knew about him was when he found that secret room by accident. He and Taeyong hyung were drunk on a hell night when they stumbled upon it."

"Please tell me they got together."

"Yes," Mark exhaled. "But also no."

  
  
  
  
  


They were in the rose garden during noontime, shortly after finishing lunch. Renjun was sitting on the ground, his fingers crafting a crown made of roses. He didn't give a damn about the thorns pricking his fingers. In the meantime, Jeno was removing pests leeching off the leaves, Chenle was removing weeds, and Jisung was watering the sprouts at the other end.

Chenle tossed another weed onto the half-filled pail. "I still find it hard to believe I am dead!"

"Oh big deal, you died, get over it," Jeno chaffed, crushing a bug with his bare hands. "I have been dead for centuries."

"Centuries? Really?"

"No. That was an exaggeration."

"Careful, Lele, there is a tarantula crawling on top of your head."

"Eek!"

Renjun laughed mischievously as Chenle backed away, tousling his hair in panic.

"I was kidding. There are no tarantulas in gardens."

"Not funny!" Chenle pouted. "I almost died!"

"Your hair literally smells like lemon," Jisung added. "Spiders hate the smell of citrus, just so you know."

"Oh wow." Renjun's grin pulled into one of mischief. "How would you know that?"

"Because I read?"

"No, not that," Jeno said. "He was talking about the lemon hair part."

"Because we all share the same bathroom, duh. I know the shampoo he uses."

"Well, I do not remember any of your shampoo brands," Renjun shuddered. "I just glance at my own and take it to the shower."

"Oh my god," Jeno gasped, gaping at the youngsters with wide eyes. "You share the same shampoo!"

It was a ridiculous joke, a lame one if Jisung had to be honest. He was peeved, and covering his ears wasn't blocking out the laughter coming from Renjun, Jeno, and worse, Chenle. Chenle wasn't looking at him, instead was focused on pulling out clumps of weeds before dumping them onto the pail.

They heard a faint snapping sound of threads.

"Oh fuck."

"Oh Jen, look at your stitches," Renjun cooed. "What happened? Why did they loosen?"

Jeno had stitches on the side of his stomach. He had it since the day he was cut by a rock underground, buried there for twelve hours within a confined, damp space. To worsen things further, the cut was infected by colonized bacteria.

"I exercised. It's okay, I'll fix it later."

The backyard door swung open. A foot stepped over the fence separating the roses from the other flowers as they simultaneously turned to look at the person.

"Oh hey!" Chenle waved. "What brings you here, Jaemin hyung?"

The said man didn't even bother looking at him, or at Jisung. He was boring holes on Renjun's skin and shooting glares at Jeno. All it took for him to direct Chenle and Jisung was a change in his voice. 

"Leave."

They did as told. Jisung put down his watering can to the ground. They walked through the backyard door that led to the garage room, Chenle bringing the pail of weeds with him inside.

Renjun applied the final touch to his rose crown as he knotted the last chain of stems that bound them together. He stood up to face Jaemin.

"So you've decided to come and talk to us."

"You left me with no choice," Jaemin admitted. "What is this now? You're getting back at me by snogging each other's faces? Weak."

Chenle and Jisung were watching them from the garage's small window.

"Let's bet on who'll snap first. The loser will have to clean the gallery hall," Jisung said in a low voice to keep them concealed. "I'll bet on Renjun hyung. He's the devil's advocate."

"My take is on Jaemin hyung. He may look nice, but he's quite scary when he gets mad. Not easily provoked, but if he's going against two, he might combust."

"Huh. That was well-reasoned."

"We'll see about that." Chenle slurped on the milk tea he'd hidden under a wooden table in the garage that day. He found it in the fridge half-emptied. "Wait, why are we leaving Jeno hyung out of the picture?"

"Because he's a softie."

Back at the garden, Jaemin curled his lips. He remained undaunted, cockily looking at Renjun's orbs filled with a burning hatred. "Can you get me coffee? I'll function better if I got some."

"Why should I?"

"If you don't get me coffee right now, the whole castle is going to bleed tonight."

Jisung huffed. "Of course he'd ask for coffee."

"Hey, he snapped first. I win."

"Nuh uh! We decided on who officially snaps first. The fight has not started yet."

What they hadn't expected was for Jeno to lose his composure first. It took him a calm yet exasperating exchange of insults between the other two.

"Okay," Renjun shrugged. "No comment, but consider this, how dare you ask us to get you coffee when you've been going around the castle breaking two hearts like it's a fucking high school."

"Uh oh, the fox is fuming mad." Jaemin taunted. "What? Are you now playing the victim here? Go on, kill me. Punch me, beat me to death, I don't care. Because whatever you'll do, I will continue to rise from the dead just like everybody else."

"We can bury you alive."

"It's fall, and I think the season here never changes. We get rain a lot. That'll make the soil moist and easier for me to unbury myself and crawl out of the ground, just like you did."

"Then we'll do it on the hottest day."

"You can't predict the weather here."

"Uh huh, just you wait. We'll bury you over and over again that it gets suffocating in there, and if you still haven't resorted to that kind of pain you bore unto us and imposed on yourself. Or should I say your past self?"

Jaemin, for once, acted hurt. And surprised.

"Did you just say my death was self-imposed?"

"Okay, you want my opinion? That's insignificant to me. Anyway, if you haven't given up on crawling out of the ground over and over every time we bury you, we'll place a stack of cement blocks above your grave to make sure you never get out again."

"You're persistent," Jaemin chortled. "So _fucking_ persistent it annoys me."

"And you're a jerk."

"And now I'm the villain here? You paint me as the villain so often you never ever considered hearing me out."

"Because you don't deserve to be heard, so enjoy your life in hell."

"God will never take you to heaven with him. You do know that, right? We'll burn in hell together."

"I committed lighter sins. You committed the heaviest sins among the people living in this castle, so God forbid you live a fruitful life."

"Oh really? Then prove that to me, damn it."

"Look at yourself in the mirror. You'll see the vilest human being to ever cross purgatory."

"You're viler."

"Am not."

"For crying out loud," Jeno shouted, his face morphing into a scowl. "Stop it! Just fucking stop it! You're making my head hurt, and I tell you what, you're one hundred times more annoying than the poltergeists! There are children that can hear us, and arguing like this is pointless! Please! Goddamn it!"

"... Oh wow." Jisung dropped his jaw. "I wasn't... Expecting that."

"... Bet withdrawn?"

"... Bet withdrawn."

“No one’s cleaning the gallery hall.”

“Yes, yes, obviously, yes.”

“Do you know what you’ve done? Is this what you wanted?" Jeno continued to raise his voice. He was looking at Jaemin. "Or is this how you wanted this to go? For the ends not to justify the means? Or were you merely blinded by the sole, disgusting belief that you can do anything in purgatory such as use your purgatory mates? You can go to any lengths no matter how horrid it can be just because you choose not to atone for your sins? Is that it?"

"I can explain–"

"I don't think there is any room for your explanation right now, Na Jaemin. Looking at that face of yours, it leaves me no choice but to question you. Do we mean anything to you? Ever? Me and Renjun? Or are we just a bunch of toys for you to play and dump us when no longer needed?"

Jaemin turned silent. His lips began to tremble, shifting his gaze to the ground.

"And you!" He jabbed a finger to Renjun's direction, causing the latter to flinch. "Has the thought of no one doesn't deserve to be left unheard crossed your mind? Has that thought ever occurred to you? If not, then Jaemin is right. You're vile. You're heartless, cold-blooded, and I hate being your wingman." He glanced at the both of them, this time shifting his glare from one to another. "You're both vile! You're equally vile, and I hate being both your wingman. And more importantly, I hate being eaten without consent!"

"Holy shit..." Chenle trailed off. "I will cry if Jeno hyung shouted at me like that."

"Admit it, you will still cry if he shouted at you in any way."

"Admit it, you'll cry too."

"I'm not a crybaby," Jisung groused.

"Really? Then who cried for an hour because he saw a fake cockroach in his soup?"

"Shut– Wait, look, Jeno hyung hasn't stopped screaming."

"I will not stop yelling until both of you have admitted your wrongdoings and apologized to each other!" Jeno yelled. "Go! Do it! Now!"

"Fine!" Jaemin gave in. "I am sorry for ruining your days and I–"

"Fix your fucking tone! You're nowhere sincere!"

"What? Look at Injun, even Injun doesn't have anything against–"

"Well, Na Jaemin!" Jeno tapped his shoe. "It doesn't sit right with me!"

"O-Okay! Injun, Jen', I'm deeply sorry for breaking your hearts, and I admit that I ruined your purgatory life at some point. I'm sorry that I was a jerk or a monster, and I took it all out on the two of you because I couldn't stand the past me, and even the more madness when I can't go back and fix that kid the way I wanted him to be. I'm really sorry. I won't beg you to give me a second chance because it's okay if you don't, and partially because that would make me a loser. I'll say more when I can talk to you individually." Jaemin paused, sighing. He glanced at Jeno. "There, happy?"

It took a few seconds to make Jeno decide. With one swift movement of his head, he turned to Renjun and said two, provocative words.

"Your turn."

"I– Alright. I'm vile. I'm cruel, and I'm this desperate bitch every cringy movie has. I take back everything horrible I said to you. I am sorry for any inconvenience I've caused, and I am also sorry for saying Jaemin doesn't deserve to have his story heard. That was immature of me."

Jaemin raised his eyebrows. "And?"

"Ugh," Renjun slumped his shoulders in defeat. "And I'm sorry for painting you as a heartless villain."

"Good. Great job, Injun, Jaem," Jeno applauded. "More will be said later in private. I don't want any of us leaving this purgatory without redemption."

"One more thing," Renjun said. "I have something to give Jaemin."

Jaemin's nose perked up at the mention of his name. Renjun bent down to the ground and picked up something. Jaemin only then noticed that Renjun's fingers had dried blood on them, replaced with new fresh ones he got after picking the item up.

Jaemin's interest was piqued. He tore away his gaze from the other's dainty fingers to the spiked ornament.

"What's that?"

"A rose crown I made," Renjun said. "Specially for you."

"Are those thorns? I'm going to bleed."

"That's the point," Jeno asserted. "Bear the pain and wear it for the whole night. Do it for us."

"Oh my god," Chenle gasped. "That's just… Plain cruel."

"What did you expect?" Jisung grouched, shrugging. "Those thorns symbolize his sins and sorrow. As quoted, 'from a thorn comes a rose, and from a rose comes a thorn.' And I'm once again reminding you, I read. You just don't see me doing it."

"I think you're missing something, _nerd_."

"What?"

Chenle took a deep breath.

"Those are wilted roses."

  
  
  
  
  


Mark led Donghyuck to the top floor lounge. As they climbed up the stairs, Mark asked the younger, "did you hear some screams a while ago or it was just me and my head?"

"You heard it too? I thought I was the only one."

"Yeah. I think it came from outside."

"Oh my god," Donghyuck gasped. "I think it was those three."

"Oh?"

"What if they made up?"

"We'll see over dinner."

When they arrived at the top, Mark sat down in front of the piano. Donghyuck did the same, slumping down beside him as Mark pulled up the cover. The younger meandered the interiors with his eyes, from the chandelier and the coved ceiling to the chalkboards and bookshelves on the mezzanine.

"Look at all those equations. Just looking at them makes me wanna shoot myself." Donghyuck stated. "Who could've written them?"

"No one knows." Mark shrugged. "They've been there since I came here, and the oldest hyung I knew, Taeil hyung, said they have been there since he came here too. Nothing has changed."

"Wow. Feels safe to assume that a mathematician or a scientist's soul came here before us."

"Hm."

"It doesn't even make any sense if you look at it," Donghyuck commented. "Why has anyone never erased them and wrote new ones? The stairs are right over there."

"I don't know about that too. Anyway, do you want to hear me play?"

"Sure. I like Tchaikovsky, by the way."

"Is there any piece of his you'd like me to play?"

"What about Waltz from the Sleeping Beauty?"

"But that's a duet."

"Well," Donghyuck shrugged, smiling. "Why else am I here?"

And so they played together. They had the perfect timing every classical duo would dream of. Nowhere near distracted, their fingers continued to hit the keys as they conversed, their voices mixing with the tune of the piece.

"I don't even know why I remember everything in the sheet music," Donghyuck admitted. "Maybe I played it as a duet with someone in my past life."

"Me too, though my sightreading skills are novice-level."

"I wouldn't assume that."

"Uh oh, you played the wrong notes. You did it again. And again."

"I'm not the only one! Wait, why are you speeding up?" Donghyuck laughed. Their hands kept bumping to each other after that. "This is not a waltz anymore."

"Want to go solo?"

"You play."

Mark raised his eyebrows. He hovered his fingers on the keys. "What would you like me to play?"

"Do you know Moonlight Sonata?" Donghyuck said. "No. 14 in C-Sharp Minor."

"Everybody at least has heard it once in their lives. Of course, I know it."

Wearing a supportive smile, Donghyuck watched him play the first bar by memory. Mark played the sonata for him like an ode, a heartfelt ode, and Donghyuck could've sworn he almost saw extravagant colors fill the room fitting the mood of Mark's playing.

It was relaxing. Like a lullaby, or a piece of music with complex, charming tunes.

There was this lingering feeling in Donghyuck's chest that led him to believe he had known Mark for a long time, that his playing was more than just an ode, and the fact that their bonding over music made him feel more connected to Mark. There had to be something he didn't know, that or yet.

He grew quiet. He watched Mark's slender fingers dancing on the black and white keys as the melody being processed by his brain was drowned out.

Mark felt his head weigh heavier on his shoulder.

"Hyuck? Hey, Hyuckie?"

Mark eventually stopped playing. Panicking, he caught Donghyuck in time before he fell off the chair.

"Hyuck? Hyuckie, stay with me," Mark hurriedly bent down on the floor, positioning his back for Donghyuck to lean on. He adjusted his position, bearing the younger's weight that was likely to give him cramps on the legs. "Oh god, this can't be happening."

Running down the stairs wasn't easy. His shouts for emergency were heard, thankfully, so by the time he arrived at the lounge room on the ground floor, everyone had gathered.

The others gasped at the sight of Donghyuck deep asleep, watching Mark gently dump his body to the sofa. Jaemin turned to Mark and yelled.

"What did you do?!"

"All I did was play Beethoven!"

"I–" Jisung glided his hand over his forehead. "He's the one classical musician whose songs my mother used to play to me all the time when I was three!"

"'Sungie, not now."

"No! Don't you get it? Beethoven's music is literally a lullaby!"

"Okay," Jeno affirmed. "That, I will agree with."

Mark tried everything. The others helped. Renjun splashed ice cold water on him, Jeno tickled him everywhere, Chenle elicited obnoxious noises right next to his ear, and Jaemin pinched his nose but was shoved away by Mark, not letting him kill Donghyuck in the worst possible way.

Still nothing. Jisung stood there at the corner, shaking his head in disapproval.

"He won't wake up now no matter what you do."

"You don't talk that way to us," Mark berated. "You're the one to first give up! Do you care about Donghyuck at all?"

"No, Mark, he's right." Renjun defended. "Let's just wait for Donghyuck to wake himself up."

"But the daydream–"

"He has to have it. It'll be over in an hour or two anyway. One daydream won't kill him."

“It might,” Mark whimpered. “No. It will.”

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck hastily walked down the hall, wearing a hoodie as his guitar case pressed against his back. He had a rehearsal tomorrow, so he needed a practice room just as much as everyone who had their names signed on the contest's participants list.

"Hi, Yeri!" He greeted upon stumbling onto another practice room he wished was vacant. He smiled at the harpist anyway and wished her good luck, making his way to the other practice rooms.

"Having a good day, Seungmin? Oh, Soobin, I didn't see you there!"

Sanha turned away from the chords of his guitar and looked at Donghyuck in mockery, "having a hard time looking for practice rooms?"

"You guess it," Donghyuck rolled his eyes. "When are you going to finish?"

"Please consider the fact that I'll be damned if my teacher said it for me that I didn't practice."

"Other students said the same thing to me."

"Please? I know it's just a guitar, but I just finished my cello competition performance the other day and I haven't been able to rest because of classes."

"Fine. Good luck with the classes."

Most rooms were occupied by students who weren't even practicing and were rather on their phones or had fallen asleep. Just as he was about to throw a fit, Donghyuck saw one on the far end of the hallway that had a signboard saying 'vacant'.

He bolted towards it at the same time someone else from the other hallway did. Donghyuck didn't fail to see him while he ran.

"MARK FUCKING LEE!"

Mark pretended not to hear him. He fastened his pace, Donghyuck simultaneously leaping faster until they slammed their bodies to the door, panting.

"What are you doing here?" Mark questioned between ragged breaths. "I thought you were in class."

"I texted you that three hours ago, dumbass. What are you doing here? I thought you don't have any piano concerts incoming."

"Don't forget I'm also a flutist. I don't want my mouth muscles to contract."

"Well, I'm a pianist, I don't want my fingers to debilitate."

"Then what is that guitar doing on your back?"

"I might lose it."

"Oh," Mark shrugged. "Okay, fine. You can have this practice room. I know you have a recital tomorrow."

"Fucking thank you!" Donghyuck exclaimed. "Thank you, oh god, thank you. Come with me inside, I'll be finished soon. It'll just be a while."

"Or you're just letting me inside so I can grade your practice."

"That too."

Mark slumped down on his chair as soon as he laid his flute case on the floor, sipping on his boba tea. He scrolled through his phone whilst Donghyuck pushed the fallboard up to reveal the grand, shiny piano keys.

Out of all times Mark could’ve decided to be an asshole, it had to be in the middle of Donghyuck's self-practice session.

"Wrong note."

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Donghyuck cussed, turning the pages of his sheet music back to the start. "I know that was a wrong note."

"Your sightreading skills are getting worse every time I come to hear you practice."

"Shut up!"

"I thought you dragged me here to let me grade your practice."

"Not necessarily like that! Your comments are rude."

Mark snickered. Donghyuck continued to go on his own pace and started over again, though his rage towards Mark wasn't entirely gone.

As he was about to play his favorite crescendo of all time, Mark, again, decided to rip his momentum apart.

"Have you ever thought of the fact that a rest is similar to a fart?"

A part of Donghyuck wanted to laugh, another didn't. Donghyuck eventually gave in. He began to play the wrong notes until he dissolved into laughter, his playing intermittent.

"I hate you so much," Donghyuck breathed. "Do you want me to embarrass myself during my recital?"

"I was just stating a fact." Mark pulled his flute case up from the floor and hung it over his shoulder. "By the way, it's almost 5:30. I have to go."

"Where are you going?"

"I have an essay to write." Mark said. "Meet me tomorrow at 5 pm?"

"Where?"

"The usual."

"But what about your practice?"

"I'll practice at home."

“Wait! I thought we were also going to practice Waltz of the Sleeping Beauty for the winter competition?”

“Some other time.”

And Mark was gone. Donghyuck took this as a chance to concentrate on his practice time before he had to go home.

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck entered the cafe, spotting Mark by the window in a short time. Donghyuck came over as he laid his guitar case on the vacant seat next to his.

"Tie your shoes, I don't want you falling for anyone else."

Donghyuck rolled his eyes. "Mark, we have been dating for five years."

"Five years, yet we haven't been on dates lately."

"Well, isn't this a date?" Donghyuck opened his sling bag. "Oh shit."

"What?"

"I forgot my laptop."

"You consider this a date?" Mark pouted. He reached for his bag and unearthed something. "Here, you can use mine. What do you need it for?"

"Thesis," Donghyuck hissed. "And don't worry, you're far more important than this fucking thesis. It's just that my next chapter is due tomorrow, and if I don't do it now, I'll fail the semester."

"Fine. I'll order for you. What do you want?"

"Get me a Vanilla Bean Latte."

"Right away."

Donghyuck opened a file by the time Mark was out of earshot. As he typed away, his senses picked up Mark's phone vibrating, turning on by itself for a split second. Before it turned off, however, Donghyuck grabbed ahold of it and pressed on the lockscreen, ignoring the notification.

The wallpaper rather was qhat caught his eye. The picture was them when they were kids, away on a field trip. It was back then in elementary grade with their moms as their companions. Donghyuck uncontrollably smiled, unable to hold his low laughter. 

"Why do you have my phone?"

"Oh, nothing." Donghyuck placed Mark's phone back to its place. "Someone wired money to your account." 

"Hm." Mark placed the tray of Donghyuck's drink onto the table before slumping down on his seat. "Must be one of my student's parents."

"Those lessons are paying well, huh?"

"I can lend you money if you want. I'm not the greedy rich."

"No. You have rent to pay. And your butt looks good in slacks, that's enough for me."

"I have kids to teach instead of going to your recital. That's why I wear it."

"Huh. Typical hot Mr. Lee. I've met one of your female students. She's six years old and yet had the guts to ask me if you are single."

"Oh, don't mind them. They're still children," Mark chuckled, watching Donghyuck sip on his latte. "How was your rehearsal?"

"It went great. My professor told me I improved a lot. He said he's looking forward to my future concerts."

"See? It was a good thing I let you use that practice room or else you would've humiliated yourself in front of people."

"That last part was unnecessary."

Mark snorted. They engaged in entirely different conversations, from talking about composers they idolized, the enthusiastic kids in Mark's flute class, to their strict professors, especially those who wanted their students to play a certain way. Not a part of it was boring, and Donghyuck liked that.

"You've been so busy nowadays. Are you free tomorrow? It's Saturday, and I want you to skip practice during weekends for a while. You'll hurt your fingers."

"Am I free tomorrow, you ask? I think so. All I have to do is pass this thesis chapter."

"Good. How about we go on a date?"

Donghyuck looked Mark in the eyes and _god_ , was he so weak for those twinkling eyes.

"Oh," Donghyuck lightly chortled. "Where?"

"I'll text you."

"Noted."

“When are we going to practice Tchaikovsky though?”

“You mean the Waltz of the Sleeping Beauty?” Donghyuck asked. “Maybe next time.”

Aside from Donghyuck's typing sounds, his phone rang for a bit.

"Can you get that for me? I'm writing a really good sentence right now so I can't let this mindset fall apart."

"Sure."

"Who is it?" Donghyuck asked, not tearing his stare away from the computer.

"Your sister. She said the washing machine broke."

"Ugh, again?" Donghyuck groaned. He began to type faster, annoyed. "I already taught her how to fix it."

"Why don't you tell her to look it up on Youtube?"

"We ran out of WiFi and I haven't paid for it yet. I have to go."

"But you just got here."

"What if she blows up our house?" Donghyuck hastened his pace, zipping his bag as he slung his guitar case over his broad shoulder. He sipped the last of his latte and slammed it back down on the table, the drink emptied. "Because I'll kill her if she does that even if it's an accident."

"At least let me go for you."

"I saved my thesis on your laptop. Send it to me before I get home, thanks!"

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck woke up to the smell of breakfast.

He grunted and stretched as he realized he had been sleeping on their living room couch the entire time. He stared blankly at his laptop sitting atop the coffee table in front of him, which concomitantly happened to shut down by itself. Donghyuck didn't budge. He knew he had saved the thesis before he decided to snooze (he'd cut off his limb if he didn't).

He could hear Sibelius playing on their vinyl recorder player. He turned around to see his sister cooking breakfast. The windows behind her showed the pitch black skies, the clouds barely visible. Donghyuck turned around, curiosity creeping, blinking several times after seeing the clock's hands point somewhere between 4 and 5.

It wasn't a snooze anymore. He slept for almost ten hours.

"Hey," Donghyuck trudged to the kitchen. "You finally decided to cook, huh?"

"That's for fixing the washing machine. And for always being this hardworking brother who never let us down."

"Well, I had no choice. Mom birthed me without consent then birthed you and the kids without my consent."

"Bla bla bla, we know you still love us more than anyone else." She placed a plate of pickled veggies and soybean stew on the table as Donghyuck flumped down wearily on his seat. "And lower your voice. The kids might wake up. They'll be a handful if they do."

"Thanks for the breakfast," muttered Donghyuck. "Did you make salted fish?"

"No, but I rolled eggs for you. Here."

"You godsent angel."

With the kitchen cleared and dishes spread out, they sat down across each other, praying. Shortly after, they picked up their chopsticks and began to eat.

Donghyuck's sister removed her hair tie, letting her hair down. 

"What's your plan in life? Your future, for example."

"I don't know," Donghyuck shrugged. "I already know I won't be a world-class soloist. I might become a YouTuber instead or maybe even a teacher."

"What about orchestras?"

"Eh. The piano supports the orchestra's harmony. Well, if it's included in the piece. If I mess up, I mess up the whole performance and everyone will blame it on me. I do not want that."

"That's rough," his sister sulked, fumbling with the rolled eggs. "I'm not a music student, but I see what it has done to you. That's why I kind of wished at times that you pursued something else."

"Like?"

"Engineering, med, or law. But I can see that you're happy when talking about composers, or when you're listening to their music. And there's something in your eyes that leads me to believe you'll be successful someday."

Sibelius stopped playing. Liszt came up next and Donghyuck's lips widened into a grin.

As they talked about their life, they also talked about the bills, even playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who will pay them for the month, and Donghyuck's thesis, whereas Mark was brought up quite genially.

"So, about you and your boyfriend," his sister giggled. "What have you been up to? Or are you prioritizing music uni over each other?"

"It's not like we're putting uni over each other. It's called balance."

"Yeah, but I've never seen you on dates recently."

Donghyuck gasped, offended, "do you have to watch me to know it's a date? That's an invasion of my privacy! I take back what I said. You are not a godsent angel. Have you been snooping around my love life too when Mark and I first started?"

"For your information, the last time I did that was when your relationship was in its second year, and I haven't done that ever since. Howbeit, I would like to do it again."

"You brat," Donghyuck growled. "If you get a boyfriend or girlfriend, I'm going to bring you hell worse than the one you brought me."

"Try."

"Watch me." Donghyuck chomped noisily on his radish salad. "Oh god, this is so good."

The other reached for her glass of lukewarm water. "What are you going to do for today?"

"I don't know. I'll print a chapter of my thesis then submit it before noon."

"You'll go to school again?"

"Yeah. But I'll probably not practice. My fingers hurt."

"Can you drop the kids to their taekwondo class on your way? They have to be there at 8 am sharp."

"Why are you talking like a mom? See? You sound like you'll be a good mother," Donghyuck commented. "And yeah, sure, I'll shower with them and dress them up too. I have four hours."

Donghyuck's phone vibrated from the bottom of his pocket. He quickly unearthed to see the notification, ready to be disappointed if it's a spam text, instead, his face lit up at the contact name.

"Speak of the devil," he said. His sister leaned to see the screen. "Oh wait, why is Mark awake? It's 4 am."

"He wants you to meet up with him at a water park? Dude, that's a date. He's asking you for a date. And that water park is ranked as Korea's number one water park."

"No, honey. Unfortunately, it's not a date."

"What?" She frowned and stopped chewing. "What do you mean it's not a date? He literally said 'Vivaldi Park Ocean World, at 11 am, take a 2 hour taxi and I'll meet you there.' Oh my god, what if he'll pay for your fare?"

Donghyuck rolled his eyes. "I said it's not. I'm pretty sure he's just asking me to go there so we can perform together."

"Are you serious?"

"'I'll be on my best attire, winky face’," Donghyuck recited, his half-filled plate with eggs almost forgotten. "Aaaand send. Ooh, sis, remind me to bring my guitar."

"He didn't tell you to bring a guitar."

"Or my sheet music, I don't care."

"I so badly want to tell you that your eggs are about to get cold, but why the guitar or even your music sheets?"

"He's inviting me to a place, there have been cases in where we meet up somewhere to perform and go on an actual date after that unless it's past our curfew time."

Her face dropped into that of horror. "Okay... You do you."

"By the way, do you happen to know where I put my charger? My laptop ran out of battery."

"It's under the couch."

"Hm, right. Thank you. You're the best sis ever."

"If you really love me, then do the dishes."

The Liszt vinyl record came to a stop. Donghyuck gave the younger some finger guns and winked.

"Your wish is my command, your majesty."

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck dropped off his siblings to the taekwondo center and had passed a chapter of his thesis to his professor with last minute proofreading and printing. From their school, he took the train route Mark sent him, spending approximately two hours on board as he listened to classical music while taking a nap to kill time. Halfway later, he watches competitions he found on YouTube to assess the competitors’ styles to motivate himself to persevere.

When it was time for him to drop off, he went to a nearby bathroom where he changed in advance. Afterward, he took a few minutes of walk to the water park where Mark was waiting. The older greeted him gleefully until the smile was wiped off his face upon the sight of Donghyuck's outfit. It didn't comfort Donghyuck when he noticed Mark wearing a lime green shirt and an orange pair of shorts. And striped flip flops.

"Why are you in your formal attire?"

"I-I thought we were going to perform?" Donghyuck peered over at the people passing by that wore swimming suits. Mark laughed, and with a deadpan voice, Donghyuck said, "this isn't funny."

"I knew this would happen." Mark reached for something in his bag. "Here."

"You actually brought these for me?"

"All of it is yours, they're bathing suits you left at my apartment after we had that pool party for a first chair violinist's birthday."

"This is embarrassing," Donghyuck blushed. "I really thought we were going to perform."

"Perform? In a waterpark?"

"Hey, I've seen orchestras or string quartets perform in a water park, okay?!"

"With no anxiety in their faces paranoid of getting their one million grand worth of instruments wet? Uh huh."

"I meant in diners! Or busking!"

"Wow. How fantastic. But no."

"Ugh. Where's the bathroom? People can't see me. And I can't get wet. This coattail and cummerbund cost more than our rent combined."

A five-year old girl ended up spotting him on his way to the bathroom and asked her mom what he was wearing and why. Donghyuck ran faster.

By the time he got changed with just a drop of water dripped on his bowtie as caused by one of the water fountains, they left their belongings at a locker room. Afterward, Mark dragged him to their first ride of the day: the uphill water coaster, followed by launch chamber slide, which had Donghyuck screaming for his life while stuck inside the chamber, then aqua loop. It was Donghyuck's idea for them to try out the surfing rides, and furthermore was Mark's for the funnel rides. They ended up trying out both, the surfing rides being first.

They didn't spend their lunch at a patio. Instead, they hopped from stall to stall with their towels drooped on their backs to warm them up, their hair still dripping teeny drops. Donghyuck nervously looked everywhere but Mark's abs printing through his soaked shirt.

"Don't you have kids to teach today?"

"I cleared my schedule for you."

"Aw. I skipped my Saturday naptime for you."

Mark snorted. "How's life?"

"A bitch," Donghyuck said as they stood in front of a hotdog stall. "My sister is probably mass calling me right now to ask me if I paid for the WiFi, which I did just this morning, and we have this boy that lives on our floor who screams for stress relief."

"I've had it worse." Mark chewed a handful of salted fries. "I wake up to bagpipes."

They spent the rest of the afternoon trying out more rides. Donghyuck was disappointed he won't get to hold hands with Mark on the mat racing slide, but it was diverting anyway. At least he got to do it on the dual zip lines.

They played around inflatables, water ground playgrounds, and rode on paddleboards. Mark rented a canoe for a late noon exercise time as both of them were required to paddle. It almost resulted in Donghyuck sobbing in fear of getting his arms ripped, which to him would be a huge disadvantage to his future career.

The view from the lake comforted him and chased his worries away. They could see the horizon, the setting sun, and the treetops shaded orange in line with the skyline. Mark scooted closer.

"It's beautiful, right?"

"It is," Donghyuck breathed. "Can we stay here for a little bit longer?"

"Of course. What do you want to do after?"

"Let's dry off. Then we can play miniature golf."

"You got it."

That canoe ride so far was the highlight of their day. Until dinner.

Playing miniature golf took them an hour or so. They headed to get changed with their extra clothes (Mark lent Donghyuck his extra extra) and retrieve their things before going to the patio for a fancy dinner.

They ordered the cheapest from the menu, which was funny as they had spent nearly all of their money on rides. While waiting for their food, Donghyuck checked his phone to see if he had any new messages or missed calls at the same time Mark was staring at the piano situated at the corner. Donghyuck noticed.

"What are you looking at?"

Mark didn't answer. He scrambled to his feet and walked towards the piano. He settled down, pushed the fallboard, and positioned his fingers on the keys.

Donghyuck watched him play. The starting notes sounded familiar. It took him a few seconds to remember what song Mark was playing, and it definitely wasn't classical music.

Mark began to sing the first verse as Donghyuck dropped his jaw. It was his favorite theme song.

"City of stars, are you shining just for me? City of stars, there's so much that I can't see."

The melodies stayed on the air whilst some pair of eyes from the other tables fell on Mark, his voice catching their attention. Donghyuck sipped a bit of the water from his wine glass before approaching the older, sitting next to him on the same piano chair. Mark’s perfume was sharp in the air.

He sang along.

"That now our dreams may finally come true," he vocalized. "City of stars, just one thing everybody wants. There in the bars, and through the smokescreen of the crowded restaurants."

He didn't stop, especially now that he revived the desiring vocals he possessed in that blessed voicebox he had. They sang the chorus, line by line, not missing a single word of the lyrics.

"I don't care if I know, just where I will go, 'cause all that I need's this crazy feeling, a rat-tat-tat on my heart."

Donghyuck was no longer looking at the piano instead, he was now admiring Mark’s features.

“Think I want it to stay, city of stars, are you shining just for me? City of stars."

Mark's fingers continued to press on the keys, vocalizing the few last lines of the song along with Donghyuck's higher-pitched singing voice. And as he gradually played the last notes letting the music fade, Donghyuck relaxed his posture and sung the last line.

"You never shined so brightly."

Mark played the last bar. Donghyuck gazed at the keys that were now untouched. He softly giggled, much to Mark's confusion.

"What's so funny?"

"Your nose."

"What about it?"

"It twitches to the rhythm," Donghyuck said. "By the way, I never knew you know how to play that song on the piano."

"Please. I've learned it ever since that movie was released."

"Okay, you played my favorite theme song, now give me the sheet music."

"I'll send it to you later."

"Shit, Mark, you're the cherry to my sundae!"

"Want to eat desserts too?"

"Yeah, I'm craving."

  
  
  
  
  


A few days passed and came was Mark's flute competition. Donghyuck was lucky not to have classes that morning so he could come and watch the older perform as his proud, exclusive boyfriend. He woke up early, got dressed, and did his morning routine within an hour. He hadn't seen Mark that morning, and while waiting from the audience seats, he decided to call him, sheets of paper in his hand.

"Hey, Mark."

_"Hey."_

"I borrowed your sheet music from you but your notes are so messy. Is this an accent mark or a staccato? I need to know before my practice at noon."

_"Is that why you called me?"_

"Yes, and also to wish you luck."

_"I'm not doing good. I'm tempted to have coffee."_

"Well, do you smell coffee?"

_"From the other room, yes."_

"Okay," Donghyuck heaved. "Wait for me. I'll be there."

Donghyuck immediately pocketed his phone. He bolted out of his seat and vanished back to the entrance in the dark, unnoticed. He went to the lobby and looked for the backstage hall, swiftly making his way through the small crowd of people. On his way there, he argued with the security.

"Sir, you're not a contestant."

"I'm a contestant's boyfriend," he scowled. "Listen here, my boyfriend is about to drink a hot coffee right this moment and if I don't go, he'll fail this competition and beat himself over it! Now let me in!"

He swung past the glass doors and rushed to the halls, looking for a door with Mark's contestant number on it. His eyes landed on the one with the number 8 hung on the center.

He quickened his pace to the said door, barging in without knocking.

"Don't drink it!"

As if on cue, Donghyuck shoved the cup of coffee out of Mark's hand and sent it flying.

"Oh my god," Mark gasped. "You saved my life!"

Donghyuck stared at the spilled coffee on the floor. "Who gave you that?"

"The boy next door."

"I'll beat him up."

"I asked for it," Mark took a deep breath, grabbing the other's hand to stop him from going to the other room. "No need to beat the kid up. It was on me."

Donghyuck looked at Mark in pity.

"Here," he unearthed an unopened bottle of water from his bag. "Drink this instead."

"Thank you."

"Have you warmed up your flute?"

"Yeah, just a few seconds ago."

"Good. Refreshed your memory?"

"Lee Donghyuck," Mark heaved. "I'm fine. I can do this. There are seven other contestants before me."

"Want me to stay here with you?"

"But what about your seat? You didn’t buy a ticket for nothing."

"I can watch you from the side. I've never seen you perform in front of the audience without me being part of it. I bet your side profile looks good while performing."

Mark chugged down his water before chuckling. "You'll see for later."

It wasn't easy for Donghyuck to keep Mark at his pace without letting him go overboard or feel hindered. A huge part of Mark's nosiness took over and wanted to watch his fellow contestants' performance through the LED screen outside the room, however, Donghyuck dragged him back inside and kept him seated.

Thanks to the soundproofing materials taped to the corners, Mark took the chance to warm up again, this time with Donghyuck coaching him. The latter didn't know anything about playing the flute, but he did know how the notes sounded and could differentiate them. He had perfect pitch, after all.

"You're up next."

"Oh shit," Mark rubbed his forehead in distress. "You have no idea how much I want to curse right now."

"So bad, I know. But you can do this."

Mark reluctantly nodded. Holding his flute, he exited the room as Donghyuck trailed closely behind him, massaging his shoulders. That went on until they reached the entrance to the stage from where they could see the spotlight illuminating the center.

"That's your spot," Donghyuck whispered. "Go, Contestant no. 8."

Mark bobbed his head, licking his lips. He adjusted his shoulders, his composure kept despite his heart's rapid hammering against his ribcage. Donghyuck knew what he had to do, and that was to slap him on the butt and give him the thumb-ups.

"Go."

Mark took one glance at the stage supervisor giving him the green light by a gesture. He bit the inside of his cheek as he made his way to the stage, passing by the curtain and leaving the backstage itself.

_Oh god_ , he was in the spotlight. He didn't maintain eye contact with the audience yet despite all eyes falling on him at one go. He ambled to the center while the spotlight followed him, shaking the tremor off his hand for a short bit.

He began to play.

At some point when Mark started, Donghyuck felt highly strung, but not anymore as 'backstage Mark' was. That barrier of uneasiness crumbled the moment Mark picked up his pace and went on for a few more seconds, and more, and more until he forgot about everything– the audience, the stage, the world, and all that filled his head were the notes and bars that took him days to memorize with uneven passion.

That uneven passion later was strengthened at some point in his practice, where he realized he had people to make proud of him and to bring joy into their lives. That was the same passion that fueled his playing to remain smooth. Eloquent. Mellow and poetic. Emotional, subtle nuances, nothing superfluous. Zero mistakes, whereas none of the notes fell apart. He maintained his own momentum, even the more fitting the spotlight looked on him as he longed for anyone to visualize its elegance and appreciate it– to love it, let it ring, and feel the yearning he poured onto it.

Now Donghyuck may sound crazy, but if someone were to ask him, he was delighted to have a flute prodigy as a boyfriend. And not just a flute prodigy, but also a multi-talented human being. Not to mention his never-ending span of knowledge regarding music and its unique characteristics.

Mark was able to evoke the emotional value of the music and more importantly, its nature. He gave a scenery as the music arose with its dynamics and flow and whispers. He had the ability to make the shrill, airy flute sounds seem sweet-sounding as if it was the finest melody any ears would pick up. He could do that a thousand more times, and Donghyuck knew that.

The music faded away. As it did, the audience was silenced in awe. So was Donghyuck.

That was the talent Mark was gifted with, the boy Donghyuck loved and continued to love.

  
  
  
  
  


"Finally," Mark dropped his body to Donghyuck's, the latter catching him in time as he walked off the stage. "It's over."

"Good job," Donghyuck smiled at him. "You were great back there. I'm starting to think Debussy is your forte."

"Syrinx, maybe."

Donghyuck escorted him back to his dressing room, where Mark cleaned his flute before putting it back to the case. Donghyuck handed him his uncapped flask. Mark took it with sincerity, chugging the lukewarm water down his dry throat.

"They'll announce the winners later," Mark wiped his wet lips. "I'll stay here for the time being and eat my lunch. You do your groceries."

"Thanks, Mark. I'll come back later, okay?"

"Fine by me. Check up on your siblings too, they might've broken yet another appliance."

"You know them well," Donghyuck laughed. "Okay, I'll go now."

Marked watched Donghyuck scuttle out of his dressing room. The second Donghyuck left the backstage, something terrible was bound to happen.

  
  
  
  
  


This time, Donghyuck woke up to the smell of metallic tang from stainless steel and greasy soup.

It was cold. He was too fatigued to get up, though he did see Mark with half-closed eyes with a blurred vision.

"You're awake."

Donghyuck grunted. "Where am I?"

"The hospital. You fainted."

Donghyuck squinted, grasping his head as he felt the IV drop attached to his finger.

"I think I'm starting to remember. How did you get here?"

"I don't think you remember this, but you called me when you got home. I think it took you a long time before passing out," Mark stated. "You said you saw something horrible, so I came with the police."

"Oh, that voice," Donghyuck nasally breathed. "And the rapid knocking– that was you?"

"And the police, yes. You wouldn't open the door."

"What happened to me?"

"The doctor said you had neurocardiogenic syncope."

"Good lord, what the hell is that?"

"I don't know either," Mark shrugged. "A type of fainting, maybe."

"Oh god," Donghyuck sighed. "I missed my piano noon practice, didn't I?"

"You did."

"And my siblings– fuck, those dependent kids," Donghyuck began to sniffle a cry. "They're not dead, aren't they?"

Mark stared at Donghyuck for a long time without speaking, hoping to get his message. But as someone sentimental who just woke up, he wouldn't take any huge news so easily.

Donghyuck repeated.

"Aren't they?"

  
  
  
  
  


Mark offered Donghyuck to stay at his place for a while due to his trauma of seeing such a gruesome sight on the very spot of his house he'd try to nourish by himself as the eldest sibling.

Donghyuck, Mark noticed, hadn't been himself since the incident happened. Donghyuck had been trying to keep his composure a few days before their memorial service was held as he did everything to keep his mother from discovering the news. He told her to not watch the TV, pick up the telephone, or open her phone. He instructed her to go on a media blackout without explaining why, and Mark knew more than anyone else that he was hurting, and that the guilt blossoming in his chest was a result of fear. The fear of his mother finding out.

Donghyuck was fine. He was fine until the memorial service was held.

Mark was there, so of course, he'd know what was up. Donghyuck wasn't the only one who heard the gossip between his aunts and uncles, his grandmothers and grandfathers, and his godmothers and godfathers. _What a terrible sibling he was, what a reckless sibling he was, what kind of eldest sibling is he?_ And the most painful question to ever ask him, _where is your mother?_

"She's on her way," Donghyuck blinked back the tears he'd been holding. He had gone on three hours with emotional restraint and kept his head high. Now wasn’t the right time for him to explode and waste his efforts. "I'm sorry, but I think she'd be more comfortable if this place wasn't so crowded. That's why she'll probably come when this memorial service is over."

Mark kept quiet. He respected Donghyuck. He was a boy he had trusted for several years, not now will Mark lose that strong faith and adoration he had for him.

Donghyuck became timid and aloof. He was depressed, went to his theory classes to distract himself, whereas sometimes he'd get sidetracked and Mark wasn't in the same classes to be there for him. There were times Donghyuck would find himself in the infirmary, and he would slip out to the nurse that he had been lacking sleep over the course of the days, and somehow she would find traces of alcohol in his veins.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"It was just one glass," Donghyuck told her. "I'm not overdrinking. And I'm totally not insomniac either."

Mark found out through the rumors lingering around the hall. As a music student, his sharp sense of hearing would come in handy when it comes to rumors spreading like wildfire almost every day, and today, it was about the boy he loved the most.

"Hey did you hear? Lee Donghyuck was brought to the infirmary."

"Really? What happened?"

"His classmates said he fainted during a lecture."

"Do you think he's overworked?"

"The next competition is not until next year, why would he possibly overwork himself?"

"Exams are next month, duh."

Mark immediately rushed to the infirmary with his flute case slung on his shoulder. It weighed on his back like a boulder, then again, he'd be willing to break a joint for someone like Donghyuck.

Even after that, Donghyuck constantly assured Mark that he was fine, and nothing was going on with him.

"Why are you so suspicious of me? I'm a grown ass man, I'm capable of taking care of myself."

"You have to stop attending night classes."

"What? No way. You can't stop me from attending night classes. I can adjust my sleep schedule to attend classes both at day and night."

"You can barely let yourself fall asleep at the mere thought of–"

"Mark, it's okay," Donghyuck hitched his breath. "I'll be fine. I can sleep at noon so I can recharge and energize myself."

For a month and more, he didn't stop sneaking out at the late hours of the night and only returned when Mark was asleep.

"Where are you going?"

"Another night class," Donghyuck slipped his outdoor shoes and tied his shoelaces, hauling his bag up his shoulders. "Don't wait for me, okay? Have a good night’s sleep, Markiepoo."

"Take the bus. Don't save money. It's dangerous out there in the streets."

"Sheez. You haven't changed. You're still overprotective like you've always been."

"Take the bus, okay? At least promise me that."

"Yeah, yeah, fine, I will. I'll go now, bye!"

Every time he went out of that door and left Mark's apartment block, the city lights and retro boards would greet him even in the darkest alleys disclosing secret bars and pubs. Donghyuck found the comfort he sought somewhere in those places, where the unspoken remained unspoken.

But Mark wasn't as oblivious as he thought. And he wasn't easy to deceive either.

  
  
  
  
  


"Markie?" Donghyuck called as he opened the door to a practice room. He smiled at the sight of his boyfriend sitting on the windowsill as he gazed upon the treetops. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"You're here," Mark said. He hopped off the windowsill and bit his lip. He hadn't looked at Donghyuck yet. "I have to tell you something."

"What is it?"

"Let's break up."

For once, Donghyuck felt his acoustic guitar weigh heavier on his back. He laughed, awkward.

"W-What?"

"Let's break up," Mark repeated. Donghyuck looked at him like he was a destroyed painting. Those words– those words that were hard to voice out loud by many, was said by Mark easily. Too easily, like it was in his nature or his forte, in spite of Donghyuck being his first.

"W-Wait," he stuttered. He placed down his guitar on the nearest desk. "I don't understand. Did I do something wrong?"

"Did you do something wrong? God, you can't even answer that question yourself? It has been two months, Donghyuck. I know what you have been doing for two months."

"I– Okay, Mark, as you can see, I'm not keeping up with you here so just say what you want to say and tell me something I don't know."

"Something you don't know? I don't know, Donghyuck, can you tell me where you've been on nights while you were staying at my place?"

"I told you I was attending night classes."

"BULLSHIT!" Mark shouted. His eyes met Donghyuck's, glaring at him. "I tracked your phone every night. You don't go on any night classes. You'd go clubbing and hook up with someone. You think I won't know that?"

"O-Oh," Donghyuck looked back at him defeatedly. "Let me explain."

"What part of–?"

"Mark, please, hear me out!" he stressed, curling his fists into the hems of his sweater. "I'm sorry that I hooked up with other men. I'm sorry I went somewhere without telling you. It's my fault, I know, and I'll do anything to make it up to you."

"But how could you hook up with so many men within two months and not me?"

"MY SIBLINGS DIED, MARK!"

"I know! I fucking know and I am fucking aware! I'm still sorry about your siblings' death, but it's not just you who was hurting. I was hurting too. And you can’t stop venting your anger to the people around you."

"I–"

"You're not letting me be part of this struggle when that's what I'm supposed to do. You're not letting me be by your side because every time I try to, you strut off and leave me. You're not letting me help you in this difficult time of your life, you won't let cry with you to sleep, cuddle with you, comfort you, and overcome their passing. You don't let me be part of your life when you face your fears head-on, instead, you continue to make yourself miserable."

"That's not true–"

"I loved you then, but you've changed. You're not this bright, bubbly, sunshine Donghyuckie that I used to know. You're not this Lee Donghyuck who smiled despite hard times anymore. Now, you're just some stone-cold, unsympathetic person, and that's not the Lee Donghyuck I was in love with."

"People change! Lee Donghyuck can change too, and that Lee Donghyuck is standing right in front of you!"

"I'm sorry." Mark breathed. "I can't do this anymore."

"B-But what about this relationship we've built from nothing? What about the future we planned? I thought we will fly to Canada and live there and work for orchestras– where is that future now? Are you throwing it all away? You'll throw it away just because of this?"

"We will not have the future we wished to have together, and why is that? Because of you! You ruined everything, and now I have no choice but to split up with you because in some ways I can think of, maybe we would be a much better version of ourselves when we're not together!"

"This too shall pass away! I already said I was sorry because damn it, I know how petty you can be!"

"Yeah? Who wouldn't be petty when they've been lied to by the love of their life?! Who wouldn't be when their partner doesn't trust them anymore?!"

"Who told you that?! I still trust you!"

"What, by being dishonest?" The older scorned. "Please."

"I'll change, I swear to you, I'll be your Donghyuck again."

"No, thank you. You've proved to me enough that you're a douchebag."

"Mark Lee," On the verge of tears, Donghyuck approached Mark with the intention of wanting to hug him. "I swear I'll never do it again. Just please, take me back."

"You cheated," Mark reeled back. "I don't forgive easily, so no, I won't."

"It was just one time," tears brimmed his eyes. "I won't do it again, please, just let this go."

"You didn't trust me. You won't trust me even after all this."

"Think about the consequences. You'll be single again."

"Being single again isn't something I imagined," Mark croaked. "I wanted to spend my life with you. I wanted to marry you. You, the one I thought I loved, you, a conniving, sniveling, cheating, lying bastard. So back to being single it is."

"Are you really serious about this?"

"I am. So let's break up."

"You won't ever forgive me? when I've only done it for the first time? At least give me a second chance!"

"I don't want to spend my life with you, someone who isn't the same as the man I truly loved!"

"If you truly love me, then watch me change! Give me a fucking second chance!"

"You constantly pushed me away and didn't tell me a single thing that wasn't a lie! Why would I give you a second chance?!"

"WE CAN'T EVEN PART ON GOOD TERMS! THERE HAS TO BE SOMETHING WRONG WITH US!"

"BECAUSE YOU DON'T TRUST ME! YOU WERE NEVER HONEST WITH ME EVER SINCE YOUR SIBLINGS DIED, THAT'S WHAT'S WRONG!"

"FINE! GO AND BURN IN HELL!"

"GLADLY!"

"FUCK YOU!"

"NEVER SHOW YOUR FACE TO ME AGAIN!"

Donghyuck snatched his guitar case from the desk, storming out of the room, the harsh sound of the door being slammed gone mute through the adjacent practice rooms. Mark stood there, immobile, prone to distress that clawed his being.

Donghyuck was his first. Now he was his first and last.

  
  
  
  


Donghyuck went to the police for interrogation.

The police told him about the security camera, the one that recorded everything at their apartment hall, was turned off when the murderer walked in, but the receptionist noticed it in time and turned it back on. It proved his alibi of entering the apartment unit before seeing the bodies, clueless, so Donghyuck was off the suspect list. Even the camera didn't catch the killer, so Donghyuck had to tell them the murderer was clad in no other colors but black, and every single detail such as height that would fit the suspect's description.

"Why would they kill my sister and brothers?"

"We received your sister's autopsy report this morning. She was pregnant."

"What?"

"The motive must've been to get rid of her before she gives birth to the unborn."

"She didn't tell us anything! What if she was planning to abort it?"

"We went through her texts exchanged with her best friend. She wasn't planning to abort it."

Donghyuck twitched, quieting down. "Continue."

"The forensic team played out what happened in your apartment during their investigation last week. The murderer must've killed your sister there on the spot where you saw her, and your younger siblings witnessed the whole thing. The murderer didn't know they were there, which is unprofessional, to be honest, so he killed them too. Everybody knows children never tell lies."

"Have you contacted our mom?"

"We had to."

"I told you not to do it."

"Sir, we needed a real companion to know."

"I am their companion! I'm the oldest! I'm an adult!"

"We needed a second companion."

"Cut the crap out! Tell our mom not to come here all the way from the suburbs because by the time she comes here, I have already killed myself!"

"Sir–"

"PICK UP THAT PHONE AND TELL HER IT WAS A FALSE ALARM! NOW!"

"Sir, we need you to calm down."

Donghyuck sank down on his chair with heavy breaths. He closely watched the investigator enter his mother's number, calling her as he eagerly typed away on his desktop. For about an hour, it was just as boring as that. The only good thing about it was Donghyuck getting to talk to his mother on the same landline, yet had to tell her that everything was perfect as a fine, breezy day.

It hurt. It hurt so bad. Donghyuck would never forgive himself for lying to his mother, knowing he would regret it.

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck pelted away from the police station and the city itself. He ran and ran until there was no one in sight, his phone that hadn’t yet been charged for the last twelve hours nearing its prolonged inactiveness.

He was sweating profusely. The sweat above his eyes almost stopped him from looking up, train rails laid in front of him perceived.

Train rails. Just the path he had cursorily chosen in a do-or-die situation.

_"Donghyuck?"_ A voice from his phone uttered. _"Where are you right now?"_

"I don't know." Donghyuck raised his phone to his ear. "I'm in the middle of nowhere."

_"Okay, let's talk about Mark. Shouldn't you be ashamed of what you've done to him?"_

"Yes, I'm ashamed. It was a terrible thing that I did. I'll regret it forever, and I lost him because of it."

_"God, you didn't lose him yet! Can't you hear the universe screaming at you?!_

Donghyuck prattled on, ignoring Yukhei's words on purpose.

"Rightfully, I lost him. And I still love him. I always will, but he'll never love me again."

_"What on Earth are you planning to do?"_

"Goodbye, Yukhei hyung."

_"Donghyuck, wait– am I hearing what I think it is?"_

"Tell Mark I'll see him in hell."

_"I said wait–"_

Donghyuck wearily collapsed his arms, the call not cut short, but Yukhei’s voice in his head, yes, was blocked out. Instead, he processed nothing but the approaching sound of the train as it grew louder, louder, and louder, to the point he could no longer hear anything but the train’s blaring noise.

He closed his eyes. This time, for the eternity he hoped.

  
  
  
  


He woke up.

The sky greeted Donghyuck like an old friend, the first thing coming to his mind was what he would be doing outside lying on a rigid, wooden table. Mark came running to him from the terrace’s railing when Donghyuck sat up, raising his suspicions.

"Where am I?"

"Outside," Mark spoke. "The terrace."

"Okay, why the hell am I here?"

"You know the psychological fact that you are more likely to have nightmares in a room with its temperature below 58?"

"Yeah, I think I've read about that back in the library."

"We had to get you out of the castle. Way hotter here, isn't it?"

"You made me sunbathe in my sleep? I'll get freckles."

Mark gaped at him, jaw hung low.

"You're awake," he said. Donghyuck didn't know if his eyes were playing pranks on him when he caught Mark smiling. "Are you really awake?"

"I don't know, I've woken up too many times in my own subconsciousness that it hasn't come to my conclusion if this is still a dream. Did I really daydream?"

"You did. Are you feeling any–?"

"Nothing," Donghyuck said. "I don't know what to feel right now but I might need a bubble bath."

"I could ask others to prepare for you."

"Woah. Thanks."

Vaguely smiling, Mark was about to draw nearer to him with his arms spread open when Donghyuck held up a hand.

"No," he reeled back. _"No."_

Mark hesitantly took a few steps back, his head bobbed down to the floor.

"... You saw," he bit his fingernails. "You saw, didn't you?"

Donghyuck winced at his melancholic tone.

"W-We were so different from before. It's like the past us were completely different people. Are we still the Mark and Donghyuck we were in our past lives?"

"That's what purgatory does to you."

Donghyuck shuddered. "We have a lot to talk about."

Mark looked at the ground. Donghyuck assumed he was hiding something, his lips pursed in thought.

"Why do you look so down?"

Mark took a deep breath, shrugging his shoulders. "I miss my mom."

"... Me too," Donghyuck mumbled. "I don't know what happened after I died, but it kills me not to know what she felt when she found out that all of her children are dead."

"Come to think of it, I never knew what your motive for suicide was, if not meeting your siblings in the afterlife."

"Yeah, I don't know either. I'm as confused as you are, and if possible, I would want to meet the past me and talk it out with that dumbass. But maybe we can say that I had various reasons to die."

“For now?”

“For now.”

Mark chuckled. He remained silent, and Donghyuck took that as a sign to carry on.

"But a part of me that feels alive, maybe a fragment of me in the past, tells me that I was too dumb to drift away from the bright things I could've seen, like moving on with my life like nothing happened so I could be there for my mother."

"You refused to do that because you were scared she would disown you, weren’t you? Because she might make you feel like everything was your fault."

"I am in no place to disagree. I didn't even know my sister was pregnant. She never cooked until she did it for me in the morning using a recipe from the internet. I should've known something was up."

"That she was practicing to be a housewife?"

"She was only in high school. She was about to graduate. And she might've been planning to drop out of school so she could take care of the child without telling us, so she won’t have to worry us."

"I talked to the police too. She was only one month pregnant. She would’ve graduated experiencing weak symptoms."

"Oh," Donghyuck soughed. It hurt. He was hurting. "I'm sorry. I'm getting chatty. You have something to say?"

"I still miss my mom," Mark smiled, full of joy, but his eyes said otherwise. "We planned to go back to Canada with you, you know? Then we died. I was her second child, I think. I can't imagine how much pain she went through when I killed myself."

Donghyuck's lips were shaking from trying to hold back his tears. He gave Mark the space to express anything he wanted to get out of his head, freely, as it was the best thing he could do for now. Mark shrugged his shoulders, motioning his arms.

"She was my everything. She raised me, introduced me to classical music, and taught me how to play the flute and piano. And the past me totally forgot about her by choosing death because I was this sick and pathetic loser madly in love with a guy who I thought was going to be the love of my life forever. I did something terrible to her, and now I can't go back to apologize to her or make it up to her because I'm stuck in this place."

"You won't be stuck in this place."

"All I know what's going to happen to me is either I'll stay here, or go to hell and live an abysmal life when I reincarnate. And even in that life, I won't meet my mom because I won't remember her. I'll eventually forget her and she's just another insignificant person walking in the world to the reincarnated me. I don't want that. I never asked for that. I just... Chose the wrong path."

Donghyuck pulled him to a hug. It took Mark by surprise, as it was only a minute ago when Donghyuck rejected his.

"It's okay. She must be happy in heaven. Or is, or will be, if she's still alive." 

"It's my fault," Mark trembled. "Why did I have to choose poorly?"

"Shh, you didn't choose poorly. What you chose brought you to the right place, and for all I know, your mother is proud of you."

Mark trembled, his limbs gone numb.

"Thank you."

“It’s nothing.”

“No, I have to thank you.” He insisted. “Thank you for everything, Hyuck, and remember that I am always very grateful to you.”

  
  
  
  
  


Jaemin took the responsibility to put the two youngest to bed. Renjun and Jeno told him to. He obliged.

"Oh my darling, oh my darling," he sung, trying to not sound as flat as he can. "Oh my darling, Clementine, you are lost and gone forever, dreadful sorry, Clementine."

Chenle barely opened his eyes, grunting.

"Jeno hyung?"

"Shhh," he hushed, brushing Chenle's head gently as he watched him go back to sleep. He continued to sing. "In a cavern, in a canyon, excavating for a mine, dwelt a miner, forty-niner and his daughter, Clementine."

As Chenle faced towards the other side, spooning Jisung, Jaemin didn't stop singing the following verses. After, he decided to sing the last ones and end the lullaby.

"Ruby lips above the water, blowing bubbles, soft and fine, nut, alas, I was no swimmer, so I lost my Clementine."

Jaemin pursed his lips. It was over. Or rather, his shortened version of it was.

Before Jaemin left their bed, he gave the children a peck on the forehead. A wave of relief washed over him when Chenle didn't budge nor did Jisung, smiling on his way out of the room to mask his sorrow.

It didn't take him long to go downstairs from the third story to the ground floor. Jaemin pranced inside the lounge room in his nightgown and bedroom slippers. He snapped his fingers, catching the attention of the people lying down on the sofa.

"Have you tucked them to bed?"

Jaemin nodded. "Fast asleep like babies."

"Great. You can sleep now if you want."

"I won't sleep if there's a crown on my head," he raised his voice. "It itches. It _stings_. And I'm bleeding. My sweat is mixing with my blood."

"Yeah, we’re not blind." Renjun smirked. "We're sorry not sorry, Jaemin, but you have to do as told. You're not the Na Jaemin we know if you don't keep your promises."

"Can I at least stay with you guys? Walking all the way from their room to here just to see you was tiring. The screams all sounded the same, and they kept staring at me."

"If you can't put yourself through hell, then go to sleep. Jeno and I have chosen the same thing."

"Is this one of those rare times where we choose death over survival?"

"What do you mean rare? Death is our only option all the time– wait."

"Oh god," Jeno gasped as he and Renjun looked at Jaemin with wide eyes. "You haven't killed yourself during a hell night, have you?"

Jaemin shrugged. "I think so."

"Huh," Renjun crossed his arms. "Coward."

"Sorry?"

"We will not kill you or let you die." Jeno said. "That rose crown is very important to us, so wear it while you survive."

"Wow, okay. Can I at least get a goodnight kiss? Even just one?"

"Sure. Which one?"

"I'll do it," Jeno uttered. "I'll kiss you."

"Doesn't have to be on the lips."

"On the lips. Assuming that's what you would like the most."

Jaemin looked at Renjun for confirmation, to which the latter shrugged his shoulders. "What he said."

Jaemin stood still near the shelves whilst the room grew colder. Jeno leaned in for a sweet, bitter kiss that had Jaemin drowning at the plumpness of his lips with his eyes closed, his mind turning blank as he hadn't realized Renjun had done something to him at the same time.

When Jeno pulled away, Jaemin found himself stumbling a bit backward due to impact, confused when he was pulled back by some force attached to his wrist.

"Wha–?"

"Good night," Renjun winked at him, his voice ever so saccharine. He had handcuffed Jaemin to one of the poles that had a revolving display of cat figurines. "I hope the TV poltergeist doesn't bother you too much."

"You–" Jaemin puffed out heavy breaths as more blood trickled down his head. "You know that I can't sleep comfortably anywhere else than I can in our bedroom!"

"Exactly. Now if you'll excuse us, we'll sleep in our bedroom."

"Don't remove the crown, boo."

Leaving a severely anguished Jaemin behind, the two of them trod upstairs. They were strangely relaxed despite standing within the poltergeists' presence.

Renjun chuckled to himself.

"That bastard will strangle himself for sure."

"What do we do to him next? In case we get bored."

"Shoot him with a harpoon. I've been there before."

“You mean–?”

“Yeah.” Renjun said. “I used a harpoon. It’s stupid, I know.” 

  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck laid there in the bathtub, feeling relaxed. It wasn't the most relaxed he had been since he entered purgatory, as the thoughts lingering in his head were itching to be answered rather than left unanswered.

"It doesn't make any sense. If I died before you, why did I come here so late?"

"You must've gotten lost in the bridge."

"The what?"

"You know, the one bridging the living world to purgatory. I read about it in some book from the library."

"Wow. So I took that long?"

“Time is considered a social construct in the world we came from, but now we actually cannot form assumptions about time outside it."

"Your point?"

"My point is, time may not be a social construct here."

The family didn't get to eat dinner all together that night. Jaemin stayed in their room doing God knows what, Renjun and Jeno were slacking in the great hall, and only the youngest duo, Mark, and Donghyuck himself met at the dining room. They celebrated Donghyuck's return, whereas Mark and Chenle put themselves in charge of cooking while Jisung, whilst so against it, prepared his bubble bath.

Despite being incomplete, Donghyuck appreciated every small, nice gesture. And he started to love them even more.

"So you were a flutist. You were a pianist too, but more of a flutist. Is that right?"

"Yes, it is. You were a pianist."

"I liked us. We seemed to be one of the cool kids. And that waterpark date? I wasn't expecting that."

"Maybe you could say I was a romantic guy."

Donghyuck bit his lip. "So... It was once us, huh?"

"I guess."

Mark stood there by the sink. He looked at his own reflection in the mirror while he did his usual night routine, washing his face and brushing his teeth. The curtain between the bathtub and the rest of the bathroom thwarted them from seeing each other.

Mark had finished rinsing his facial skin and was ready to call it a day. He shook his hands, splashing the water on the sink.

"I'll go first."

Before he could leave, Donghyuck spoke.

"I take it that I was in the wrong. I'm sorry for being mean to you, and that I wasn't thinking straight. You forgive me, don't you?"

"Yeah. I forgive you. And I hope you will forgive me too."

"Hm. I can't pick a side and tell if what you did was right or wrong," Donghyuck said. "But I believe in fate. If what's done is done, then that's that. It has happened. You can't change it. You have to accept it and deal with the consequences."

"And I did deal with the consequences. I'm here now. We don't know if we'll meet in hell, but we did meet here in purgatory, which we didn't know even existed."

Donghyuck let out a low, soft laugh.

"Yeah, Yukhei told me what you said to him," Mark tittered. "Like really? 'Tell Mark I'll see him in hell'?"

"Hey, my anger got the best of me, okay? And can you hand me my towel?"

"Sure," Mark snatched the towel hung on the rack rail before handing it to Donghyuck, pushing the curtain aside. "You done?"

"I've been sitting here for an hour. My skin is nourishing. It should be enough."

"Or you're just scared the poltergeists will come at you."

"Shut up. I don't even know what they do to someone inside a bathroom."

Mark waited for the younger to finish up and get off the bathtub. Wrapped in only a towel, Donghyuck strutted off to their room along with Mark, overcoming the cold that came with the poltergeists' neglected presences. As Donghyuck was picking out his pajamas in their wardrobe before changing into them, Mark filled the air with his husky voice, sitting at the edge of his bed.

"Did you know? I thought of another theory."

"What?"

"At least two purgatory mates knew each other in their past lives. Taeil hyung and Jungwoo hyung claimed to know each other based on what they saw in their dreams. If not, then at least two could've been contemporaries."

"And out of people in today's generation, it had to be us?"

"You have a problem with it?"

"No," Donghyuck shook his head. "I just find it funny."

By the time Donghyuck had slipped his feet into his bed slippers, he sat down next to Mark to start buttoning up his striped pajama shirt. He stared blankly at the window's shadow reflected on the floor. A part of him wondered why the light was red, but he pushed it to the back of his head and left it unspoken.

"Why do none of us eat Chenle and Jisung?"

"Because they're young," Mark answered. "The moment we stepped here, we had sworn that we'll never eat young people like them."

"Oh. Minors, huh? What happens if we eat them?"

"No idea. But it won't probably sound good."

"Hm."

Mark yawned. He spared Donghyuck no glance and scrambled to his feet, heading to lean by the window.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

Mark scoffed.

"How are you really feeling?"

"You heard me."

"Come again?"

"I'm mad!" Donghyuck yelled at the top of his lungs. "I'm so mad right now thinking about how my siblings' murderer is walking free, dead or alive! I don't know if he has been found or caught, but I just know damn well that the police didn't look into the case thoroughly because they're ignorant pets to injustice! I want that murderer to burn in hell, and within this sick madness burning inside me, I am craving something gross so bad!"

"Okay," Mark breathed. "Good. That's good. You're venting out your anger, although I'm assuming you might want to vent the rest through a specific procedure."

"What? What procedure?! Vent in what way?!"

"In a way you'll mostly feel the satisfaction you've been dying for."

When Donghyuck narrowed his eyes in confusion, Mark pointed out of the window. Donghyuck followed. His eyes widened in shock. Only then did he realize why the translucent light in their room was a shimmering shade of red.

"What the hell is that?"

"A blood moon."

"... What does it mean?"

"I don't know. It's only the second time I saw something like that."

"Second time? What happened the last time you saw it?"

"Emotions ran high, and someone killed himself the next day."

"Oh my god," Donghyuck shrieked. He leaned to the wall for support, his breath bated. "Oh my fucking god."

Mark approached him, his stance ready to catch Donghyuck whenever. "Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry– it's just, my head fucking hurts. I feel like I'm being possessed."

"Do you want me to get you a glass of water?"

Donghyuck shook his head. "I'm not thirsty, I– I feel more like– eating, I think."

Mark pursed his lips.

"I know where to bring you."

It didn't take long for Mark to carry Donghyuck's limp body on his back all the way from two stories above down to the basement that was swallowed in the dark during the day. He called it an achievement, wending their way unscathed as the poltergeists constantly blocked and stalled them, desperate for their attention.

Mark opened the lights, placing Donghyuck on the floor as gentle as possible.

"What are you doing? Mark, what are you doing?"

"You know what to do."

"O-Oh," Donghyuck shivered. "Oh shit."

"You can do it."

"Fuck, I'm so hungry," Donghyuck ground his teeth. For a split second, he wore a smug smirk on his face until it vanished. "No! I can't do it."

"Donghyuck? Donghyuck, listen to me. You can do it."

He was turning red. Clenching his fists, his nostrils flared as he avoided looking Mark into his eyes. As much as the older reassured him with pats on the back, Donghyuck had no choice but to vent out his pent-up anger.

"I CAN'T DO IT!"

"Look at me, Donghyuck, look at me and think of me as your worst enemy. The past Mark or the murderer, whatever suits you."

"I can't do it," he cried. "I won't do it, fuck, I _cannot_ do it."

"Get a grip. You won't be able to fall asleep with your head hurting, and that’s because you're restraining your emotions."

"What the fuck are you getting at?"

"Donghyuck," Mark whispered. "It's better to let go."

Donghyuck's eyes watered. He was no longer himself when his orbs gleamed with mischief.

"Back then in the lounge."

"Yes?"

"You said you only have one belief. What was that belief?"

"That no one could have the love we had."

In a split second, Donghyuck pinned Mark against the carpeted floor. The latter felt numb, giving in, his mouth gaping and eyes wide. He was trapped, no escape, no choice but to succumb to the other's cobweb as the airway in his throat was pressed. Donghyuck pressed harder, strangling him in the process with his bare hands. When he toned it down thinking it was over, Mark coughed and talked, choking on air.

"Remember when you said you don't feel like being a cannibal or a killer here?"

Donghyuck blinked. 

"We are never going to atone for something we did that should've been done."

"You said nobody has gotten out of this purgatory alive, right?"

"It has been two generations for me. Nobody has ever atoned. Not a soul, not a somebody, and definitely not one of us either."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

At first, Donghyuck was puzzled at the memory of it. But then it dawned on him.

Donghyuck never proved Mark wrong. Heck, he never proved anyone wrong. They said he would never atone. He thought he would, but all these times he had been trying to stay afloat the situation, he was rather on the wrong barque.

What happened next in that basement was gruesome. Blood was shed. The pain was beyond agonizing, and the devil within a mere soul was unleashed under a moon whose scarlet spots were penetrating to gaze at.

They will never age. They will never feel pain a day after every time they hurt themselves. They are invincible, but not forever.

  
  
  
  
  


Mark sat on the rooftop, the sky above him depressingly sunless. He unearthed his phone to dial a number he had called the most aside from Donghyuck's.

_"Hey Mark."_

"Hey."

_"You've been skipping music school. Are you okay?"_

"Yeah, I'm fine," Mark lied, laughing. The cruel taste of bitterness didn't leave the back of his throat. "I only called you to ask which position when jumping off a building is better."

_"What?"_

"Prone or supine? Do I face the ground or the sky?"

_"Okay, what the hell Mark? This has been going on for weeks. I am once again begging you not to do this."_

"It has been three weeks, Yukhei."

_"Three weeks since you started skipping classes."_

Mark bit his lips, feigning ignorance.

"It has been three weeks since he died and I'm not doing well. All I wanted to do was to see him, dead or alive, but they didn't let anyone in. They said he doesn't have eyes anymore and it was possible that he was cut in half. They won't let anyone see his body, not even his mother who's probably hurting the most right now. And I hate that. I can't bear it. His mother– she has the right to see him, and they took that away just because they were 'worried' she might get trauma."

_"Then go and trespass? Bust in there and tell them you're his boyfriend. You're still his boyfriend. All that falling apart was not real. Tell that to their faces instead of killing yourself."_

"They won't believe me. And if I'm still his boyfriend, I have to meet him in the afterlife. That's what a real boyfriend will do."

_"I don't think Donghyuck would be proud of you if you did that."_

"You don't know him. _I_ know him," Mark accentuated. "Goodbye, Yukhei. Tell my mom that I love her and that I've emptied all my bank accounts for her. All the money is wired to her accounts. It should be enough to pay for her bills for a year or more."

_"Look, I'm really glad that you're being a good and devoted son, but do you even know what Donghyuck told me to tell you? Do you know what his last words were?"_

"What?"

_"He said he'll see you in hell."_

"Really? His last words to me were 'fuck you.'"

_" ... Are you gonna play along?"_

"Who's playing along? It's what I should do. Bye, I have to go."

_"Fuck. Where are you?"_

"I'm at the rooftop of Donghyuck's apartment block. Why?"

_"Wait for me. I'll be there."_

"Just because you're a street racer doesn't mean you'll catch me. Bye now, for real."

_"Mark, I swear to God I'll be sorry for the rest of my life if you jump off."_

"Don't be. I'm too sad to function right now so I'm capable of making rash decisions. You of all people should understand that."

_"Mark!"_

"Thanks for being a great friend. Really, thank you for everything."

Mark didn't spare a second to hear Yukhei's agitated response or the revving engine of his motorcycle. He left his phone on the cold-stoned floor, approaching the edge of the building. He was fifteen stories high.

He wasn't scared of heights. But for once, this day, he took one look below him. The accelerating cars and people on the streets made him want to scream into the void.

Mark stepped on the narrow surface.

"Okay, Mark Lee, remember that you are capable of anything." He breathed, shaking. "And you're gonna have to do it by supine position so you can see the sky one last time."

Another trembling step he endured. He stood still, whereas even the littlest move would suffice.

"I am Mark. I deserve happiness just as much as anyone else. But most of all, I want to see Donghyuck happy and get the redemption I didn't give him."

Mark took shallow breaths. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"I was born and raised as a Christian. I know well that suicide is a grave sin, tampering with one's life is a sin, but I deserve this death, and I am not afraid to go and follow the path chosen by the one I love."

Mark rasped, taking another shallow breath. He was in the open, he had all the fresh air he could have had. And yet, he had chosen the most gruesome way to put an end to his life without considering his future.

“I hate you so much, God.”

Mark had put far too many thoughts into growing up, and it was all for nothing. Nothing, as his life happened to turn itself upside down, the people he met being the primary essence of the odious cause.

He moved. His foot stepped back into nothing but air, giving himself into gravity's attraction.

And there he went, embraced by the sweet clutches of death's limbs. Mark longingly stared at the clouds. He wished he hadn't closed his eyes by instinct before the warmth of life inside him left his body, his chest laid still.

Blood trickled on the concrete, its bile scent wafting with the strong wind. The impact of his limp body was synced with the shrieks and jolts of passersby. He could hear the people no more as they panicked, surrounding him out of curiosity, and better yet, concern.

Mark laid there, dead. Rain began to pour.

**Author's Note:**

> Not gonna lie I almost cried while writing the short garden scene with MarkHyuck because what the fuck. I had to research what insects live in the soil while I had to unavoidably see pictures.
> 
> Also, this was very depressing to write. I wrote this during a difficult time and I'm just glad that it is finally over.
> 
> Anyway, happy Spooktober! 2020 is a bastard but don't let a year get into you. You're strong, bb <3


End file.
